OF  THE  PINES 

HERMAN 
KNICKERBOCKER 


LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 

Class 


i 


MYRA  OF   THE  PINES 


MYRA      OF      THE 
PINES 

'BY 
HERMAN  KNICKERBOCKER 

Author  of  "  The  Inn  of  the  Silver  Moon  "  and 
"The  Last  of  the  Knickerbockers'' 


NEW  YORK 

A.   WESSELS    COMPANY 
1906 


Copyright,  1902,  by 
McCLURE,   PHILLIPS  &  CO. 


TO  MY  FRIEND 


226404 


CHAPTER  ONE 


CHAPTER   I 
TO  THEBES   8   MILES 


THIS  bit  of  information,  lettered  in  red 
lead  upon  the  blazed  trunk  of  a  pine-tree, 
might  have  applied  to  any  one  of  four 
diverging  sandy  tracks.  But  then,  nobody  ever 
passed  the  cross-roads  who  did  not  know  the  way 
to  Thebes. 

"  Some  day,"  remarked  Miss  Myra  Dale,  "  I 
shall  paint  over  that  inscription.  It  is  ridiculous 
to  live  nowhere  but  '  Eight  miles  from  Thebes.' ' 

"  I  hope  you  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort  with 
out  consulting  Mr.  Ramsey,"  replied  her  mother. 

The  ladies,  standing  before  the  tree,  appeared 
to  regard  its  legend  with  a  more  than  casual  in 
terest,  but  it  was  noticeable  that  each  from  time  to 
time  allowed  her  eyes  to  stray  toward  the  level, 
shadowy  vista  to  the  west — toward  Thebes  in  point 
of  fact. 

m 


THE    PINES 

"  If  Mr.  Ramsey  should  happen  to  be  here  to 
day — if  that  should  be  his  buggy  coming  now  " — 
began  Mrs.  Dale,  misled  by  tricks  of  changing 
light  among  the  pines  into  betrayal  of  her  watch. 

"  Oh,  he  will  come  to-day,"  her  daughter  inter 
posed  with  confident  indifference ;  "  he  was  to 
bring  that  Colonel  Somebody  to  inspect  the  prop 
erty,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  Colonel  Blunt,  the  treasurer  of  the  com 
pany  ;  but  whenever  the  Colonel  writes  that  he 
will  come  he  telegraphs  to  say  that  he  has  been 
detained."  And,  with  a  little  sigh  of  resignation, 
the  elder  lady  resolutely  turned  her  back  to  Thebes. 

"  Perhaps  he  has  a  premonition  what  it  will  be 
like,"  suggested  Myra,  flippantly,  stooping  as  she 
spoke  to  pick  a  last  year's  pine-cone  from  the 
fragrant  ground. 

Mrs.  Dale  followed  her  daughter's  trifling  act 
with  interest.  Perceiving  the  find  to  have  been 
commonplace,  she  remarked,  in  accents  of  reproof: 
"  Myra,  you  should  not  speak  slightingly  of  the 
property,  even  in  jest.  Think  of  this  sky  and 
air !  "  But  these  not  being  assets  in  which  a  treas 
urer  might  find  satisfaction,  she  concluded  some- 
[4] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

what  lamely :   "  And  I  am  sure  that  when  the  trees 
are  all  cut  down  the  land  will  be  very  nice." 

"  I  wonder  what  the  Colonel  will  think  of  us?  " 
Myra  speculated,  springing  lightly  from  a  sub 
ject  on  which  the  ladies  secretly  agreed.  "  I  won 
der  if  he  will  approve  of  Mr.  Ramsey's  choice  of 
tenants?" 

"And,  pray,  why  should  he  not?"  demanded 
Mrs.  Dale,  with  dignity. 

"  Of  course,"  went  on  her  daughter,  "  he  will 
not  know  we  were  the  only  white  family  in  the 
State  willing  to  live  eight  miles  from  nowhere  in 
particular,  and  he  may  be  critical;  he  may  expect 
to  find  us  just  a  shade  more  strenuous  than  we  are, 
perhaps." 

"  No  one  of  any  refinement  could  fail  to  appre 
ciate  your  father,"  Mrs.  Dale  replied,  as  though 
this  were  an  argument. 

"  Or  you,  too,  mother,  let  us  hope,"  added 
Myra,  dutifully,  "  or  even  me.  And  Colonel  Blunt 
need  never  guess  that  under  any  circumstances  the 
temptation  of  a  log-house  in  the  wilderness  would 
have  proved  irresistible  to  us,  quite  apart  from  the 
satisfaction  of  thwarting  Providence." 


MYRA    OF    THE    PINES 

"  To  my  mind  we  were  guided  here,"  declared 
her  mother,  piously. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  protested  Myra,  undismayed ;  "  our 
obvious  destination  was  the  poorhouse,  and  I  am 
not  at  all  sure  it  might  not  have  been  the  best. 
Father  would  have  invented  a  reversible  coffin  for 
paupers  worth  a  fortune  in  itself,  and  you,  mother, 
might  have  stamped  yourself  upon  the  age.  Think 
of  the  copy  for  the  Inglenook  right  at  hand — 
*  Poorhouse  Papers,'  '  Letters  from  a  Lazaretto,' 
'  Chats  with  the  Criminal  Insane.'  Oh,  it  was  a 
sacrifice,  our  coming  here.  Even  I  might  have 
caused  ill-feeling  between  the  junior  warden — if 
there  is  such  a  person — and  the  assistant  visiting 
physician — if  they  have  one ;  now  I  shall  never 
have  another  chance  to  be  thoroughly  interesting." 

"  Myra,"  said  Mrs.  Dale,  becoming  thoughtful, 
"  of  course  what  you  say  is  absolutely  idiotic,  but 
I  wonder  we  never  thought  before  of  the  poor 
house  as  a  scheme  of  local  colour." 

"  Mother,"  rejoined  Myra,  gravely,  "  if  you 
should  study  local  colour  in  the  poorhouse  the  re 
sult  would  be  an  intrigue  of  court  life  in  the  time 
of  Charles  the  Second.  When  our  surroundings 
[6] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

are  the  shabbiest,  jour  characters  are  always  most 
refined." 

"  And  slummy  things  are  always  in  demand," 
reflected  Mrs.  Dale,  pursuant  of  her  former  train 
of  thought.  "  Let  us  sit  down  here  and  talk  it 
over." 

The  roadside  bank  was  smooth  and  clean,  and 
springy  with  a  mat  of  dead  brown  needles  fallen 
from  above;  the  low,  sweet  droning  of  the  autumn 
wind  among  the  pines  a  stimulant  to  fancy.  About 
the  cross-roads  the  forest  stretched  a  county's 
breadth  on  every  side,  its  trees  all  young  and  lusty, 
and  of  equal  size — an  aftermath  without  history  or 
tradition,  but  not  without  possibilities  of  its  own. 
Here  one  was  free  to  imagine  anything  that  had 
ever  been  in  any  forest;  and  b:  liter,  other  things 
that  do  not  belong  in  forests. 

"  Listen !  I  am  sure  something  is  coming,"  cau 
tioned  Mrs.  Dale. 

Myra  shook  her  head. 

"  If  you  listen  in  the  woods,  mother,"  she  re 
plied,  "  you  will  always  hear  something  coming. 
I  hear  it  every  day  and  every  night,  always  nearer 
and  nearer,  but  never  here.     Sometimes  it  is  like 
[7] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
the  paddles  of  the  Sound  steamers  that  used  to 
pass  the  end  of  our  old  street  in  Astoria ;  sometimes 
a  train  of  Pullman  cars  upon  a  bridge,  and  some 
times  only  a  funeral  jolting  over  the  cobble-stones 
from  the  Ninety-second  Street  Ferry." 

"  No,  not  like  that,"  the  other  cried  in  protest. 
"  Let  us  hear  nothing  but  pleasant  things." 

"  I  don't  care  much  what  they  are,  if  they  would 
only  come,"  said  Myra,  recklessly.  In  all  the  silent 
autumn  day  nothing  could  really  happen  in  the 
pinelands,  so  it  was  safe  to  throw  a  challenge  down 
to  chance.  And  other  days  would  be  the  same — the 
patient  shadows  and  the  patient  sun,  and  in  the 
trees  a  ceaseless  mimicry  of  life  and  death.  Noth 
ing  would  ever  come — except  Mr.  Ramsey  in  his 
buggy. 

"  Wait  till  your  father  sells  one  of  his  inven 
tions,"  admonished  Mrs.  Dale,  as  one  recalls  the 
cheerful  fiction  of  the  expected  ship.  She  spoke 
impersonally,  shifting  her  position  to  avoid  a  sun 
beam  more  persistent  than  the  rest.  And  Myra 
only  laughed  a  little,  also  impersonally. 

The  world  was  beautiful,  and  in  the  pinelands 
barter  and  bargain,  and  the  chatter  of  the  market- 
[8] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

place  seemed  far  away.  It  was  like  being  on  a 
desert  island  under  the  special  providence  reserved 
for  castaways,  like  inhabiting  a  new  unsullied 
planet,  where  monetary  systems  are  unknown. 
Through  a  brief  silence  they  could  hear  the  lazy 
purring  of  the  woods,  the  dropping  of  dry  twigs 
—now  here,  now  there — the  business  of  small  un 
seen  creatures  in  the  fallen  needles. 

Myra,  with  her  back  against  a  tree,  dissected  her 
pine-cone  with  idle  curiosity,  threw  away  the  frag 
ments,  and,  having  rubbed  her  small  browned  resiny 
hands  together,  looked  about  for  another.  Her 
mother  sat  erect,  her  keen  black  eyes  alert  to  seek 
the  cause  of  every  woodland  sound.  Even  in  their 
mode  of  doing  nothing  mother  and  daughter  were 
unlike,  a  fortunate  circumstance,  perhaps,  for  two 
thrown  much  together.  Mrs.  Dale — "  Aunt  Em 
met  "  to  the  readers  of  the  Inglenook — was  small 
and  slight,  and  wore  her  white  hair  drawn  high 
upon  her  head  to  add  a  cubit  to  her  stature.  There 
w.-is  no  reason  why  at  forty  her  hair  should  have 
been  white ;  but  so  it  was,  and,  in  contrast  with  her 
youthful  face,  bright  eyes,  and  black,  straight  eye 
brows,  it  gave  an  odd,  preposterous  suggestion  of 
[9J 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
masquerade.  It  had  been  her  ambition  once  to 
weigh  one  hundred  pounds,  but  this,  with  several 
others,  had  been  given  up,  and  Mrs.  Dale,  resigned 
to  littleness — a  comprehensive  littleness — cut  her 
infrequent  dresses  short,  bestowed  a  nice  attention 
on  her  feet,  and,  in  adornment,  ran  to  ruffles.  A 
Dresden  shepherdess  in  mourning,  Myra  had  pro 
nounced  her  when  the  present  dress  was  new.  But 
not  for  months  had  anything  pertaining  to  the 
family  been  new,  except  financial  difficulties,  and 
even  these  do  not  retain  their  crispness  long. 

Myra,  unlike  her  mother,  was  not  an  alien  in  the 
forest,  no  more  so  than  the  sunlight  or  the  autumn 
wind.  One  would  have  accepted  her  as  part  of  it, 
unquestioningly  at  first,  almost  unconsciously,  wait 
ing  till  later — a  very  little  later — to  apprehend  her 
true  significance  in  the  picture ;  to  realise  how  well 
the  greens  and  umbers  of  the  pines  united  for  her 
background ;  how  cleverly  accessories  led  up  to  her ; 
how  happily  the  blue  colour  of  her  cotton  dress  had 
faded  to  the  tone  best  suited  to  her  hair. 

Had  this  blue  fabric  been  a  trifle  less  abominably 
shabby;  had  the  wind  and  sweeping  pine-boughs 
exercised  restraint  in  their  antics  with  her  hair; 
[10] 


CHAPTER     ONE 

had  she  herself,  in  fact,  been  another  than  Miss 
Myra  Dale,  she  must  have  been  pronounced  at  once 
an  exceptionally  pretty  girl.  As  it  was,  it  took  an 
appreciable  moment  to  discover  this  most  vital  fact 
— the  moment  of  suspense  that  makes  after-cer 
tainty  so  much  more  sure. 

Myra  was  tall — beside  her  mother  very  tall — and 
for  this  reason  wore  her  hair  so  low  across  her  fore- 
hea4  that,  when  within  some  measure  of  control,  it 
nearly  touched  two  perfect  curves  of  darker  bronze. 
Myra's  eyes — it  was  from  them  the  flash  of  revela 
tion  came — held  every  shade  of  brown  at  once. 
One  seeing  them  might  think  of  jade  and  jasper 
melting,  but  not  mingling,  in  tawny  port,  with 
just  an  added  drop  of  topaz  dissolving  in  Tokay ; 
but  then,  should  the  explorer  think  of  anything 
beyond  the  eyes  themselves,  it  must  be  of  a  nose,  too 
short  and  straight  for  classification — for  anything 
but  worship — or  of  a  mouth  and  chin,  where  even 
ardour  of  discovery  must  have  stopped  contented. 

When  Mr.  Ramsey,  resident  agent  of  the  Pine- 
opolis  Improvement  and  Colonisation  Company 
(Limited),  first  met  Miss  Dale  in  Thebes  six  months 
before  this  narrative  begins,  he  had  considered  her 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
untidy.    But,  holding  the  opinion  still,  he  had  come 
since  then  to  think  untidiness  a  merit. 

The  cackling  of  a  hen  from  somewhere  near  at 
hand  arousing  the  ladies  from  their  reveries,  moved 
them  to  exchange  a  look  of  quick  intelligence.  And, 
being  roused,  both  turned  toward  the  vista  of  the 
road. 

"  He  is  coming,"  said  Miss  Dale.  "  He  will  be 
here  in  just  eight  minutes." 

"  Oh,  Myra !  if  Colonel  Blunt  should  for  once 
not  be  detained,"  began  her  mother,  with  sudden 
apprehension,  which  note  her  daughter  interpreted 
aright. 

"  I  know  my  hair  is  far  from  neat,"  admitted 
Myra,  readily,  "  but  there  is  time  enough  for  an 
elaborate  toilet.  And  that  is  not  the  worst  of 
me." 

She  put  in  evidence  a  small  foot  shod  in  a  cheap 
low  shoe,  lifting  the  hem  of  her  faded  dress  just 
high  enough  to  disclose  the  worst  beyond  a  doubt. 

"  Dear  me,  where  are  they,  child  ?  "  her  mother 
cried,  in  real  dismay. 

"  Oh,  only  drying  on  the  kitchen  roof,  secured 
from  accident  by  father's  inkstand  and  a  brick." 
[  121 


ft         CHAPTER     ONE 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Dale  again.  "  What 
would  Mr.  Ramsey  think?" 

"  Unless  you  mention  the  matter,  I  assure  you 
he  shall  have  no  occasion  to  think  of  it  at  all,"  re 
joined  Myra,  with  composure.  "  I  wonder  what  he 
will  bring  to-day  as  a  contribution  to  our  dinner — 
'  in  case  the  butcher  has  forgotten  to  call,'  his  tact 
ful  way  of  putting  it." 

"  Mr.  Ramsey  has  a  great  deal  of  tact,"  her 
mother  interposed.  "  He  knows  how  far  we  are 
from  supplies ;  and  then  he  passes  this  way  so  often 
going  to  the  cranberry  bog." 

"  Which  is  much  nearer  by  the  other  road,"  said 
Myra.  "  It  is  most  thoughtful  of  him,  I  am  sure, 
but  I,  for  my  part,  should  rather  be  under  obliga 
tions  to  the  county.  It  would  be  so  much  more 
impersonal  were  the  cost  of  our  beefsteak  appor 
tioned  among  the  townships." 

"  Mr.  Ramsey  has  been  a  true  friend  to  us,"  said 
Mrs.  Dale,  reprovingly,  "  and  he  is  always  most 
considerate.  Why,  the  last  time  he  was  here  he 
shared  our  dinner  without  hesitation.  I  remember 
perfectly ;  we  had  liver  and  bacon.  If  you  are  so 
sensitive,  Myra,  you  might  easily  offset  these  tri- 
[IS] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
fling  obligations  by  making  him  some  simple  piece 
of  fancy-work." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  assented  Myra,  with  suspicious 
readiness.  "  A  tobacco-pouch ;  but  then  he  does 
not  smoke.  Perhaps  a  book-mark  would  be  better, 
with  an  appropriate  motto :  '  Love  the  Giver,  who 
Guv  the  Liver!'" 

Myra  did  not  wait  for  comment  on  her  motto 
— even  constitutional  amiability  has  at  times  a 
limit — buti  springing  to  her  feet,  ran  lightly  in 
the  direction  of  a  small  new  house,  half  hidden  in 
the  trees.  Once  she  turned  and  called  back  to  her 
mother,  following  more  slowly : 

"  If  I  should  not  get  back  in  time,  the  steak  will 
be  under  the  seat  beside  the  halter.  Look  carefully. 
There  may  be  butter." 


[14J 


CHAPTER  TWO 


CHAPTER  II 

EIGHT  minutes  later  Mrs.  Dale  stood  plac 
idly  between  a  fuschia  flourishing  in  a 
powder-can  and  geraniums  in  a  box  once 
holding  soap,  before  the  threshold  of  the  cross-road 
house.  A  beaded  work-bag,  small  but  not  the  less 
conspicuous,  hung  from  her  slender  arm,  and  her 
fingers  occupied  themselves  in  the  creation  of  a 
certain  narrow  lace,  in  which  they  were  especially 
skilled.  About  her  feet  some  chickens  fought  for 
newly  scattered  crumbs,  which  gluttonous  contest 
their  mistress  seemed  to  watch  with  patriarchal 
pride. 

"  That  is  perfect,  mother ! "  exclaimed  her 
daughter,  coming  at  the  moment  to  the  open  door 
behind.  "  So  simple,  so  sincere !  Nothing  could 
impress  the  treasurer  of  a  colonisation  company 
more  favourably  than  to  find  his  hardy  settlers  well 
employed." 

[171 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Myra,"  said  Mrs.  Dale,  unmoved  by  this  ap 
proval,  "  please  drive  off  Brigham  Young ;  he  will 
not  let  his  wives  eat  anything  at  all." 

Brigham,  a  large  bird,  blue  of  body,  appeared 
to  have  put  on,  through  inadvertence,  the  head  of 
a  smaller  yellow  fowl,  and  his  driving  off  was  not 
accomplished  without  confusion. 

"  Myra,"  said  Mrs.  Dale,  severely,  when  again 
decorum  reigned,  "  I  thought  you  intended  to  make 
yourself  presentable." 

"  Oh,  not  for  Colonel  Blunt,"  replied  her  child. 
"  If  one  is  to  be  snubbed  and  patronised,  one  must 
have  some  better  garments  in  reserve  to  save  one's 
self-respect.  But,  really,  I  have  fixed  my  hair." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  inquired  her  mother,  with  the 
frankness  of  near  relationship.  "  I  never  should 
have  guessed  it.  Here  they  come!  Do  occupy 
yourself  with  something !  " 

"  Lend  me  the  scissors,"  whispered  Myra. 

She  took  the  implement,  delving  for  it  in  the 
work-bag,  and  began  with  reckless  industry  to  snip 
the  leaves  of  a  geranium  plant,  trimming  one  into 
the  semblance  of  a  heart,  another  into  that  qf  a 
star.  And,  absorbed  in  her  pursuit,  she  did  not 


CHAPTER    TWO 

turn  when,  a  moment  later,  the  sound  of  creaking 
springs  and  crunching  twigs  brought  terror  to  the 
chickens.  Nor  did  she  seem  to  hear  the  voice  which 
presently  cried  out  in  hearty  greeting :  "  Good 
morning,  Mrs.  Dale!  Everything  lovely  in  Pine- 
opolis;  everybody  well?  " 

"  Yes,  thank  you,  Mr.  Ramsey.  And  you  are 
well,  I  trust?  "  the  chatelaine  returned  so  gra 
ciously  that  even  Colonel  Blunt  must  have  been 
favourably  impresM<l. 

"  I'm  feeling  fit  to  kill,"  went  on  the  hearty 
speaker,  still  more  heartily.  "  How's  the  Pro 
fessor?  Whoa,  there,  dern  your  picture !  Who  are 
you  trying  to  kick  ?  " 

Assuming  these  remarks  intended  for  her  mother 
but  in  part,  Myra  bent  to  mutilate  another  leaf. 
In  fancy  she  could  see  familiar  antics  on  the  part 
of  a  pale  brown  horse,  but  these  she  steadfastly  re 
fused  to  see  in  fact. 

"  Do  take  some  notice  of  Mr.  Ramsey,"  admon 
ished  Mrs.  Dale,  in  an  impatient  undertone.  "  He 
is  looking  straight  at  you."  Whereupon  Myra 
took  some  notice  of  Mr.  Ramsey,  standing  at  his 
horse's  head,  by  acknowledging  the  open  gratifica- 
[19] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
tion  on  his  sunburned  face  with  a  none  too  gracious 
nod. 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Ramsey,"  she  said,  stiffly, 
and  resumed  her  occupation. 

Mr.  Ramsey,  who  was  short  and  wiry,  gave  at 
once  the  impression  of  one  who  is  much  in  the  open 
air.  His  skin  was  of  a  wholesome  ruddiness,  deep 
ening  to  red  about  the  neck  and  toward  the  end  of 
his  aggressive  nose,  and,  touched  by  the  same 
potent  influence,  his  blond  moustache  and  whiskers 
were  lighter  by  several  shades  than  nature  had 
originally  planned.  It  was  improbable  that  his 
eyes,  in  colour  gray,  should  have  likewise  faded,  but 
such  was  the  suggestion  they  conveyed. 

To  eyes  less  critical  Mr.  Ramsey  might  have  ap 
peared  an  active,  capable  young  man,  of  less  than 
thirty,  serious  for  his  years,  and  not  ill-favoured; 
but  Myra's,  following  the  manoeuvres  of  the  pale 
horse,  expressed  but  disapproval  of  the  agent  of 
Pineopolis.  Perhaps  she  would  have  been  better 
pleased  had  it  occurred  to  Mr.  Ramsey  to  raise  his 
hat;  that  much  might  be  expected  even  from  one 
the  last  of  his  generation  to  cultivate  side  whiskers. 

For  the  second  visitor,  still  seated  in  the  vehicle, 
[20] 


CHAPTER     TWO 

the  treasurer,  she  had  only  a  calm,  unalterable  re 
sentment.  Presently  she  should  bear  her  share  of 
well-fed  patronage;  but  whatever  the  attitude  of 
others,  Myra  would  spare  few  words  for  Colonel 
Blunt,  unless  the  opportunity  occurred  to  give  her 
own  impressions  of  his  property. 

Meanwhile  the  objectionable  Blunt  stepped 
down,  with  a  deliberation  born,  of  course,  of  a  re 
gard  for  clothes  ill-suited  to  his  expedition.  On 
the  ground  he  seemed  much  taller  and  less  old  than 
she  had  pictured  him,  and  more  erect  than  other 
colonels  she  had  known.  But  the  overbearing, 
purse-proud  nature  of  the  man  betrayed  itself  at 
once. 

When,  on  looking  to  Mr.  Ramsey  for  an  in 
troduction,  he  perceived  that  gentleman  to  have 
disappeared  behind  the  horse,  the  circumstance 
disturbed  him  not  the  least.  Drawing  his  heels 
together  he  removed  a  soft  felt  hat,  and  made 
obeisance  in  a  manner,  to  Myra's  mind,  insufferably 
affected,  though  Mrs.  Dale  came  near  to  courtesy- 
ing.  One  detail  of  behaviour  alone  was  in  his 
favour — he  did  not  begin  at  once  to  note  defects. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  pleasure  to  welcome  you  to  Pine- 
[21] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
opolis,  Colonel  Blunt,"  began  the  hostess,  with  the 
charming  frankness  of  one  of  her  own  heroines; 
but  the  stranger  thereupon  held  back  with  some 
embarrassment . 

"  Oh,  say,  I  beg  your  pardon !  "  came  the  voice 
of  Mr.  Ramsey  from  across  the  crupper,  "  I'm  for 
getting  manners.  Mrs.  Dale,  let  me  make  you 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Christensen,  of  Sweden.  The 
Colonel  didn't  come." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale,  with  real  delight,  for 
the  unexpected  never  took  her  by  surprise.  "  From 
Sweden !  How  delightful !  "  Had  it  been  from 
Lapland  her  tone  could  not  have  expressed  more 
pleasure. 

"  So !  "  said  the  stranger,  at  his  ease  at  once. 
"  I  am  no  longer  now  of  Sweden,  but  of  New  York," 
he  added,  conscientiously.  "  And  I  am  charmed 
to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Dale,  and  Miss  Dale,  also,  if  I 
am  right." 

Miss  Dale  inclined  her  head,  and  did  not  raise 
it  again  directly;  a  silhouette  of  the  brown  horse 
was  still  unfinished. 

"  How  do  you  do?  "  she  murmured,  endeavouring 
hastily  to  revise  her  plan  of  conduct  to  suit  a  per- 
[22] 


CHAPTER     TWO 

son  against  whom,  being  neither  treasurer  nor 
colonel,  she  had  no  just  grievance.  One  look  into 
the  strangei's  face  had  shown  her  that  his  eyes  were 
blue  and  amiable,  and  not  at  all  the  eyes  of  one 
disposed  to  patronage. 

She  heard  him  speaking  to  her  mother,  who,  in 
answering,  employed  her  broadest  "  a  " — with  her 
a  compliment — but  she  did  not  hear  what  either 
said.  Presently,  when  only  the  stem  of  the  geran 
ium  leaf  remained  unsnipped,  she  realised  that  they 
were  coining  nearer,  and  suspected  Mrs.  Dale  of  an 
intent  to  meanly  slip  away  to  seek  enlightenment 
from  Mr.  Ramsey,  leaving  the  burden  of  hospi~ 
tality  upon  her  child. 

"  Myra,"  said  Mrs.  Dale,  in  honeyed  tones, 
"  Mr.  Christensen  has  been  telling  me  that  they 
have  houses  in  Sweden  built  of  logs  like  ours." 

"  Have  they  ?  "  said  Myra,  without  undue  ela 
tion. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  Swede ;  "  but  then  our  roofs 
are  made  much  steeper  on  account  of  the  snow." 

"  Of  course  that  must  be  necessary,"  assented 
Myra,  most  unwillingly,  for  she  detested  facts. 

"  I  don't  believe  your  father  heard  the  carriage," 
[23] 


MYRA    OF     THE     PINES 
murmured  Mrs.  Dale,  with  truth,  though  that  was 
not  her  real  reason  for  pursuit  of  Mr.  Ramsey, 
after  a  playful  and  apologetic  nod. 

"  I  see  that  you  are  fond  of  flowers,"  Mr. 
Christensen  remarked  when  she  had  gone,  and 
Myra  coloured  guiltily. 

"  Are  the  Swedish  peasants  fond  of  flowers  ?  " 
she  inquired. 

"  Oh,  very,"  he  assured  her.  "  They  have  a  say 
ing  in  my  country  that  '  A  flower  will  turn  a  lock 
that  a  brass  key  cannot  move.'  I  am  afraid  I  do 
not  express  it  very  well  in  English." 

"  That  is  a  very  pretty  proverb,"  she  replied. 
"  I  shall  remember  it." 

Mr.  Christensen's  blue  eyes  expressed  gratifica 
tion.  So  far  they  had  been  directed  toward  the 
tree-tops  chiefly.  Now,  as  he  lowered  them  to  hers, 
she  grew  conscious  that  he,  too,  revised  some  first 
impressions. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  the  pines  before?  "  she 
asked  him,  hurriedly,  anxious  only  to  avert  a  pause. 

"  Never  till  to-day,"  he  answered.   "  You  are  for 
tunate  to  live  among  them.     I  should  fancy  every 
.  hour  here  would  be  too  short." 
[24] 


CHAPTER     TWO 

"  That  is  because  you  do  not  have  to  stay  here,"" 
she  rejoined,  with  sudden  shyness.  Whoever  this 
unexplained  visitor  from  Sweden  might  be,  he  had 
a  way  of  watching  the  effect  of  his  remarks  as 
though  he  did  not  trust  the  words  themselves  im 
plicitly. 

"  I  suppose  you  have  many  visitors  who  come 
to  see  the  property?"  he  suggested. 

"  No ;  not  a  soul  so  far,"  she  answered,  honestly, 
and,  remembering  the  interests  of  the  company, 
added :  "But  then  we  have  not  been  here  long — 
not  quite  a  month." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen.  "  Then  I  shall  be 
the  first  to  intrude." 

Myra  threw  away  the  leaf  and  wiped  the  scissors 
on  her  sleeve. 

"  You  would  not  call  it  intruding  if  you  knew 
us  better,"  she  answered,  looking  up.  "  Mother 
and  I  often  regret  that  there  are  no  Indians  in  the 
woods  to  come  and  sit  around  and  grunt  and  ask 
for  fire-water." 

"  You  make  your  hospitality  so  broad  that  even 
I  shall  feel  at  ease,"  replied  the  other,  gravely.  By 
moving  a  step  Myra  could  see  her  mother  near  the 
[25] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
wood-pile  in  confidential  converse  with  the  agent, 
and   surmised   that   now   she   must   know   all  that 
might  be  learnt  concerning  Mr.  Christensen. 

"  Let  us  walk  as  far  as  the  stump,  and  see  what 
time  it  is,"  suggested  Myra,  moving  out  into  the 
sunlight. 

An  elementary  sun-dial  rested  on  the  stump,  con 
sisting  of  a  disk  of  tin  whereon  were  certain  radial 
scratches,  and  a  long  nail  upright  to  supply  the 
necessary  moving  shadow. 

"  It  is  nearly  twelve,"  announced  Myra.  "  Have 
you  ever  before  seen  a  day  divided  on  a  pie- 
plate?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Mr.  Christensen ;  "  that  would 
be  possible  only  here." 

"  This  is  a  contrivance  of  my  father's,"  Myra 
explained,  with  a  touch  of  pride.  "  Pie  is  an  in 
ventor,  you  know." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen,  appreciatively. 

"  Yes,"  she  went  on,  "  he  has  invented  some  really 
wonderful  things — an  automatic  dish-washer,  which 
he  calls  the  '  Sarah,'  after  mother,  and  a  portable 
circus-seat,  and  an  infant  incubator,  and  lots  of 
others." 

[26] 


CHAPTER     TWO 

"  And  arc  none  of  them  named  after  you?  "  in 
quired  Mr.  Christensen. 

"  Yes,"  she  admitted,  flushing  a  little,  "  there 
is  the  '  Myra  '  bottle-stopper.  He  gave  it  my  name 
because  I  insist  that  it  is  the  best  of  all.  It  is  sim 
ple  and  at  the  same  time  clever." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen,  and  he  repeated  the 
name  "  the  Myra.  I  look  forward  to  meeting  Pro 
fessor  Dale,"  he  added.  "  This  Mr.  Ramsey  has 
told  me  of  his  great  abilities." 

"  That  was  nice  of  Mr.  Ramsey,"  rejoined  Myra, 
wondering  '  why  "  this  "  before  a  person's  name 
should  make  that  name  appear  less  desirable. 

Meanwhile  Mr.  Ramsey,  having  made  a  disposi 
tion  of  the  pale  horse  that  was  mutually  satisfac 
tory,  drew  near,  and  with  him  came  the  hostess, 
alert  and  smiling,  as  was  her  wont. 

"  And  so  the  Professor  has  made  a  new  dis 
covery,"  he  was  saying,  with  the  heartiness  of  old 
acquaintance.  "  What  is  it  this  time  ?  " 

"  Oh,  a  most  wonderful  mineral  spring,"  replied 
Mrs.  Dale.  "  But  Lc  will  tell  you  all  about  it  him 
self.  It  is  full  of  iron  and  oxygen  and  all  sorts 
of  things." 

[27] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  That's  great ! "  the  agent  cried,  effusively, 
"  We'll  have  Pineopolis  a  health  resort  before  we 
know  it!  Good  day  again,  Miss  Myra." 

"  Good  morning,  Mr.  Ramsey." 

Mr.  Ramsey  would  have  shaken  hands  had  not 
Myra  at  the  moment  dropped  her  scissors,  which 
remained  upright  in  the  sand  by  chance. 

Though  both  gentlemen  sprang  to  pick  it  up, 
Mr.  Christensen  had  the  advantage  of  being 
nearest. 

"  There  is  a  superstition  in  Sweden,"  he  ob 
served,  as  he  restored  her  property,  "  that  when  a 
scissors  stands  like  that  its  owner  is  about  to  make 
a  very  good  friend." 

u  There  must  be  lots  of  sand  in  Sweden  to  make 
that  a  proverb,"  commented  Mr.  Ramsey,  carp- 
ingly. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  there  is  a  great  deal  of  sand,"  replied 
the  Swede. 

Mrs.  Dale  now  moved  toward  the  house.  The 
graceful  gesture  of  her  small  hand  and  its  accom 
panying  comprehensive  smile  would  have  encour 
aged  a  much  more  reluctant  company  to  follow. 
Beside  her  moved  the  guest  of  honour ;  behind,  her 
daughter  and  the  agent,  in  the  order  given. 
[28] 


CHAPTER    TWO 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  whispered  Myra,  holding 
back  as  the  leaders  disappeared  across  the  thresh 
old,  and  Mr.  Ramsey  waited  willingly. 

"  Who  is  this  Mr.  Christensen?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  just  a  party  from  New  York,"  explained 
the  other,  in  a  hoarse  and  confidential  undertone. 
"  I  never  laid  eyes  on  him  myself  till  he  turned  up 
in  Thebes  with  a  letter  from  old  man  Blunt.  He's 
looking  for  land  for  Swedish  emigrants." 

"  And  does  he  think  of  forming  a  nucleus  him 
self?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  no;  he  wouldn't  come  himself,"  replied  the 
agent,  with  a  cautious  glance  toward  the  door. 
"  As  near  as  I  can  make  out,  it  is  some  sort  of 
charitable  scheme.  He  tells  me  he  is  in  the  banking 
business.  A  kind  of  outside  fellow,  like  enough. 
I  don't  believe  he  knows  the  first  thing  about  land." 

"  No,"  she  assented,  "  I  should  not  suppose  he 
would  know  much  of  land." 

"  Oh,  he's  got  a  heap  more  sense  than  you'd 
think,"  protested  Mr.  Ramsey,  who  was  ever  just. 
"  He's  no  fool,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Indeed,  is  he  not?  "  returned  the  girl,  indif 
ferently. 

[29] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

Then  followed  a  moment  of  rather  awkward  si 
lence,  which  neither  seemed  inclined  to  break, 
though  each  was  conscious  there  was  that  which 
must  be  said.  Then  Mr.  Ramsey,  turning  a  deep 
er  red,  began  a  sentence  having  for  its  burden 
"  In  case  the  butcher  might  not  have  been 
around " 

"  Where  is  it?  "  she  asked  him,  humbly. 

"  On  the  stump  beside  the  kitchen  door." 

"  Thank  you ;  I'll  find  it.  You  had  better  go 
in  now  and  introduce  your  visitor  to  father. 
Mother  is  so  apt  to  make  mistakes  in  names,  and 
he  might  not  like  being  Mr.  Ferguson,  of  Green 
land." 

"  All  right,"  assented  Mr.  Ramsey.  "  But  say, 
I'll  slip  out  after  a  while  and  help  you  fry  them." 

"  What  is  them?  " 

"  Sausages,"  whispered  Mr.  Ramsey,  as  one  who 
gives  a  countersign.  "And,  by  the  way,  there's 
something  else.  Foreigners,  you  know,  can't  drink 
water,  so  I  just  had  them  put  in  a  bottle  of  white 
wine." 

"  Wine !  "  Myra  cried,  in  consternation.    "  Good 
gracious,  Mr.  Ramsey ;  mother's  temperance !  " 
f  30  1 


CHAPTER     TWO 

"Whew!"  whistled  Mr.  Ramsey.  "I  never 
thought  of  that!  Then  we  can't  have  it,  I  sup 
pose?" 

"  No,  I  am  afraid  not.     I  am  very  sorry." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right ;  you  needn't  be,"  he  an 
swered.  "  If  people  have  principles,  I  believe  in 
their  living  up  to  them.  I  seldom  touch  a  drop 
myself,  but  I  thought  a  glass  of  wine  at  dinner 
might  make  a  good  impression." 

"  We  shall  have  to  depend  upon  ourselves  to 
make  the  good  impression,"  Myra  said,  consolingly. 
"  Ourselves  and  father's  mineral  water — it  tastes 
like  paint." 

"  I  guess  there  must  be  sulphur  in  it,"  specu 
lated  Mr.  Ramsey.  "  Just  stow  the  bottle  some 
where  ;  it  might  be  handy  in  case  of  sickness.  I'll 
be  along  before  you  get  to  the  sausages;  they're 
apt  to  bust." 

"  I  hope  you  will,"  she  answered,  cordially. 
"  Mother  has  forgotten  dinner  long  ago." 

Before  they  parted — he  going  to  the  front  door, 
she  toward  the  lean-to  kitchen  by  the  path  around 
the  house — Mr.  Ramsey  said: 

"  He  made  a  bluff  at  not  wanting  to  stop  to 
[31] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
dinner,  but  I  told  him  you  were  not  the  folks  to 
stand  on  ceremony.     Wasn't  that  all  right?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  answered ;  "  that  describes  us 
perfectly." 

"He  strikes  you  as  well-mannered,  don't  he?" 
Mr.  Ramsey  asked,  with  some  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  said  again.  "  Now  go  in  before 
father  comes  down." 

There  were  more  small  brown  paper  packages 
than  usual  upon  the  stump,  and  Myra,  carrying 
them  to  the  kitchen,  paused  to  conceal  one  that 
gave  forth  melancholy  glugs,  beneath  the  kitchen 
step.  As  she  did  so  she  felt  sorry  that  Mr.  Ramsey 
should  be  disappointed  in  one  of  the  small,  con 
siderate  acts  so  characteristic  of  him.  Perhaps 
later  her  mother  might  elect  to  take  a  nap ;  per 
haps  something  else  might  happen.  Favourable 
things  generally  happened  when  Myra  had  a  plan 
on  foot. 

Through  the  door  into  the  living  room  she  could 
hear  her  mother  leading  in  the  conversation,  and 
she  inferred  from  this  that  her  father  was  still  up 
stairs,  where  she  had  seen  him  last  gluing  two 
pieces  of  wood  together  for  some  mysterious  pur- 
[32] 


CHAPTER     TWO 

pose  of  his  own.  She  could  hear  Mr.  Ramsey  being 
very  much  at  home,  and  suspected  him  of  showing 
off  his  intimacy  before  a  stranger.  Hitherto  Mr. 
Ramsey's  standing  in  the  family  had  not  been  one 
of  intimacy.  As  she  cut  the  string  about  a  plump 
and  yielding  package  Mr.  Ramsey's  laugh  rang 
clear  above  the  rest. 

One  glance  toward  the  sausages,  another  toward 
her  own  reflection  in  the  little  glass  above  the  stove, 
and  Myra  was  once  more  in  the  sunshine.  A  mo 
ment  later  she  entered  the  front  door,  composed  as 
one  untrammelled  by  domestic  cares. 


[33] 


CHAPTER  THREE 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  room  upon  whose  threshold  Myra 
paused  for  an  observant  moment  was  of 
the  same  dimensions  as  the  house,  which, 
though  contracted  for  a  house,  were  generous 
for  a  room.  About  the  four  walls  logs  and  inter 
vening  plaster  alternated  in  horizontal  bands  of 
brown  and  white;  small  windows  let  in  cool  green 
forest  light  above  muslin  curtains.  An  open  stair 
way  occupied  one  end,  and  two  other  doors  led  re 
spectively  to  kitchen  and  workshop  in  the  lean-to 
wing. 

Through  the  prevailing  wholesome  atmosphere 
of  pine  about  the  place  there  rose  an  under-smell  of 
paint — blue  paint.  Everything  paintable  in  sight 
had  been  painted  blue,  cerulean  blue;  the  wooden 
chairs,  the  tufted  chairs,  the  massive  sofa,  whose 
design  and  hair-cloth  covering  suggested  nothing 
but  veneer;  the  hanging  chalet  clock,  which  had 
[37  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
no    hands;    even    a    cooking-stove    with    a    pipe. 
On  this  a  lamp  appeared  about  to  boil,  the  family 
Bible  farther  back,  to  simmer  gently. 

In  the  room  sat  Myra's  mother  and  the  two 
young  men.,  Mr.  Christensen  in  the  hair-cloth  seat 
of  honour,  Mr.  Ramsey  upon  a  trunk — blue  also — 
and  the  lady  on  some  article  of  furniture  concealed 
beneath  her  skirts,  which  might  Lave  been  an  otto 
man,  but  was,  in  fact,  a  nail-keg.  The  household 
chairs  were,  for  the  most  part,  recovering  slowly 
from  an  overdose  of  paint. 

At  sight  of  the  daughter  of  the  house  Mr.  Ram 
sey  looked  up  with  momentary  apprehension,  and 
Mr.  Christensen,  being  less  at  home,  rose  to  his 
feet. 

"  Will  you  not  have  this  seat?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  thank  you,"  Myra  answered,  as  she  passed 
him.  "  I  will  take  the  other  corner.  This  sofa  is 
the  only  really  safe  place  in  the  house." 

"  It  takes  a  little  while  to  get  to  rights,"  re 
marked  the  agent,  in  his  role  of  family  friend. 

The  conversation,  which  had  sounded  so  attract 
ive    through    the    door,    now   began   to    languish. 
Though  Professor  Dale  did  not  appear  at  once,  a 
[38] 


CHAPTER    THREE 

heavy  footfall  on  the  floor  above  announced  that 
his  coming  might  be  expected  at  any  moment, 
which  was  a  discouragement  to  connected  effort. 
Mr.  Christensen,  ignoring  these  sounds,  affected 
interest  in  Mrs.  Dale's  lace,  but  Mr.  Ramsey,  more 
frank  by  nature,  kept  an  eye  upon  the  open  stairs, 
and  prophesied  from  time  to  time. 

"  He's  coming  this  trip,  sure." 

"  The  trouble  was,"  said  Myra,  when  the  talk 
came  back  to  chairs,  "  that  the  paint  got  thick. 
Mr.  Christensen,  have  you  ever  tried  to  paint  a 
chair?" 

Mr.  Christensen  had  not.  But  he  had  once  as 
sisted  in  painting  a  boat.  It  had  been  a  Swedish 
boat  called  the  Raven,  belonging  to  a  fisherman 
whose  name  had  been  John  Johns. 

"  How  picturesque,"  commented  Mrs.  Dale, 
making  a  mental  note  of  Johns  for  future  use. 
"  Quite  like  some  Norseland  poem." 

"  MT.  Christensen,  are  you  fond  of  poetry  ?" 
inquired  Myra,  as  one  who  opens  an  agreeable 
topic. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  answered,  cautiously,  "  of  some 
poetry." 

[39] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Do  you  know  the  saga  of  the  4  Old  Man  of  the 
Border'?" 

"Is  it  by  Scott?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  not  sure.     Would  you  care  to  hear  it?  " 

"  Yes ;  very  much,  indeed." 

"  It  is  not  long  at  all,"  said  Myra,  reassuringly ; 
"just  four  lines — 

«  There  was  an  Old  Man  of  the  Border 
Who  lived  in  the  greatest  disorder. 
He  danced  with  the  cat,  and  made  tea  in  his  hat, 
Which  distressed  all  the  folks  of  the  Border.'  " 

Mr.  Ramsey  laughed  uproariously,  but  Mr. 
Christensen,  affecting  seriousness,  pronounced  the 
hero  a  sensible  fellow. 

"  Would  his  manner  of  life  have  distressed  you 
very  much  if  you  had  known  him?  "  Myra  asked, 
meeting  his  eyes  for  one  brief  moment. 

"  Not  if  he  had  given  me  some  tea,  and  invited 
me  to  join  the  dance,"  he  answered,  gravely. 

"  Myra,  how  can  you  be  so  silly  ?  "  her  mother 
sighed,  and  circumstances  put  an  end  to  the  dis 
cussion. 

"  He's  coming  this  time,  sure,"  Mr.  Ramsey  an 
nounced  again,  triumphantly ;  which  prediction 
i  401 


CHAPTER     THREE 

was  presently  fulfilled  by  a  creaking  on  the  open 
stairway  and  the  appearance  near  the  ceiling  of  a 
pair  of  feet  clad  in  white  socks  and  ample  green 
list  slippers. 

The  Professor,  being  a  portly  man,  descended 
slowly,  at  every  third  or  fourth  step  pausing  alto 
gether  to  regard  the  company  below  with  obvious 
suspicion  and  distrust.  His  head,  owing  to  an 
abundance  of  hair  that  fell  about  his  shoulders  and 
the  fulness  of  his  beard,  appeared  of  unusual  size, 
and  suggested  the  head  of  a  black  lion.  His  eyes 
were  large  and  dark,  and  would  have  been  unduly 
prominent  had  the  brows  above  them  been  less 
heavy,  and  they  had  the  look  in  them  of  eyes  that 
see  only  the  distance  clearly.  The  Professor  was 
tall  in  stature,  and  the  purple  dressing-gown  he 
wore,  girded  at  the  waist,  tended  to  increase  his 
apparent  height.  Upon  the  lower  step  he  paused 
so  long  that  Mr.  Ramsey,  inferring  an  intent  to 
come  no  farther,  introduced  the  visitor. 

Professor  Dale  held  up  a  hand  as  though  in  bene 
diction. 

"  You  are  welcome,  sir,"  he  said,  deliberately,  in 
a  deep  and  resonant  voice.    "  Pray,  sir,  resume  your 
[41] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
seat.    Do  I  understand  that  you  arrived  at  Thebes 
this  morning?  " 

"  Not  so,"  replied  the  guest,  still  standing.  "  I 
came  by  the  express  last  evening." 

The  Professor  shook  his  head. 

"  I  fear  you  found  the  Union  House  a  wretched 
place,  and  its  proprietor  a  coarse,  offensive  man," 
he  said. 

"  We  are  going  to  have  a  hotel  out  here  some 
day  that  will  be  something  like,"  began  Mr.  Ram 
sey,  vauntingly,  but  Myra  interposed. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  do  you  know  they  have 
houses  just  like  ours  in  Sweden?  " 

"  And  why  in  Sweden,  child  ?  "  demanded  the 
Professor ;  which  led  to  explanation  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Ramsey. 

"  My  visit  here  is  a  reconnaissance,"  said  Mr. 
Christensen,  with  caution.  "  We  heard  of  this 
property  through  Colonel  Blunt,  but  the  entire 
project  is  still  in  the  air,  as  one  might  say." 

"  I  know  of  no  region  better  suited  for  such  an 
enterprise,"  responded  the  Professor,  with  convic 
tion.  He  was  never  intentionally  ambiguous. 

"  So  ? "    inquired    Mr.    Christensen,    alert    for 
[42] 


CHAPTER     THREE 

information.      "  And    may    I    ask    your    reasons, 
sir?" 

The  Professor's  reasons  were  many,  and  he  gave 
them  willingly.  Seating  himself  upon  the  lower 
step,  which  relieved  his  guest  from  the  occasion  for 
further  standing,  he  dwelt  at  some  length  on  the 
character  of  the  Swedish  people,  whom  he  appar 
ently  held  in  high  esteem.  From  this  he  went  on 
to  consider  soil  and  climate  generally,  and  only  per 
mitted  himself  to  reach  the  pinelands  by  slow  but 
logical  advance. 

"  Cranberries,"  said  the  scientist,  deliberately, 
announcing  a  new  heading ;  "  are  you  familiar  with 
their  culture,  sir?  " 

Mr.  Christensen  was  not,  but  if  after  many  min 
utes  his  ignorance  continued,  he  had  but  himself  to 
blame. 

Though  during  the  discourse  Mr.  Ramsey  moved 
uneasily  at  times,  Myra  and  the  visitor  vied  with 
each  other  in  close  attention  to  the  end.  Myra, 
because  she  always  listened  when  her  father  spoke, 
and  Mr.  Christensen,  perhaps,  because  he  was  in 
search  of  information. 

"  I  am  sorry,  sir,"  remarked  Professor  Dale,  in 
[431 


MYRA     OF    THE     PINES 
abrupt  conclusion,  "  that  you  did  not  come  in  time 
for  dinner." 

"  Dear  me,"  gasped  Mrs.  Dale,  awakening  to  the 
claims  of  hospitality,  and  Myra,  affecting  to  con 
sider  the  remark  a  pleasantry,  said  dinner  would 
be  ready  in  half  an  hour. 

"  I  trust  so,"  said  Professor  Dale,  without  con 
cern.  To  his  guest  he  added :  "  If  you  will  step 
into  my  workshop,  sir,  I  will  show  you  a  contrivance 
of  my  own  for  pulling  stumps  which  cannot  fail  to 
interest  you." 

A  moment  later,  when  the  workshop  door  had 
closed,  Myra  and  the  agent  sprang  up  with  one 
accord. 

"  Dear  me,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  de 
manded  Mrs.  Dale. 

"  Hustle,"  cried  Mr.  Ramsey,  executively. 

"  Cook,"  answered  Myra,  with  determination. 

"  Cook  what?"  demanded  Mrs.  Dale,  nervously 
rolling  up  her  lace. 

"  Sausages,"  responded  Myra,  reassuringly. 
"  Mr.  Ramsey  is  to  show  us  how.  You  know  they 
are  apt  to  burst." 

"  I'll  fry  them  as  my  mother  used  to  do,"  de- 
[44] 


CHAPTER     THREE 

clared  the  agent,  playfully.    "  Come  on ;  there  isn't 
any  time  to  fool." 

That  Providence  in  creating  Mr.  Ramsey  had 
made  a  master  workman  there  could  be  no  doubt. 
In  the  kitchen  he  gathered  his  tools  with  an  unerr 
ing  instinct  of  selection.  He  cooked  as  he  would 
have  developed  photographs  or  adjusted  a  survey 
ing  instrument,  and  with  as  little  conscious  loss  of 
dignity.  Somehow,  in  the  lean-to  kitchen  Mr. 
Ramsey  became  a  man  of  greater  dignity  than  he 
had  seemed  when  at  ease  upon  the  trunk. 

"  There  should  be  some  biscuits  somewhere," 
Myra  observed,  her  head  within  a  cupboard. 

"  Never  mind  looking  for  them,"  replied  the 
agent.  "  I  brought  some  bread  along.  I  thought 
you  might  like  a  change.  It's  in  one  of  those  pack 
ages,  and  there  are  a  lot  of  other  things — I've  most 
forgotten  what."  He  had  removed  his  cuffs  and 
hung  them  on  a  nail.  "  I'll  just  take  off  my  coat, 
if  you  don't  mind,"  he  said. 

"  Do  whatever  you  please,"  responded  Myra, 
sweetly.  "  I  am  going  to  help  mother  with  the 
table,  and  perhaps  I  had  better  shut  the  door." 

"  Oh,  I  say,"  protested  Mr.  Ramsey,  who  had 
[45] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
not  bargained  for  a  solitary  task.    "  It  don't  take 
two  for  that." 

"  No,"  she  assented,  laughing,  "  and  it  don't 
take  two  for  this." 

"  It  is  unfair  to  leave  him  to  do  everything 
alone,"  her  mother  whispered  when  the  door  was 
closed. 

"  Mr.  Ramsey  considers  freedom  from  restraint 
essential  to  good  results,"  explained  Myra. 

From  the  workshop  door,  which  had  swung  open 
on  a  crack,  they  heard  the  voice  of  the  inventor. 

"  Twenty  per  cent,  die  before  the  age  of  six,  and 
of  these  fully  one-half  do  not  attain  the  first  year." 

"  So !  "  remarked  another  voice. 

"  Dear  me !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Dale,  "  your  father 
has  begun  to  explain  the  baby  incubator,  and  din 
ner  must  be  nearly  ready !  " 

From  the  other  door  appeared  the  face  of  Mr. 
Ramsey,  flushed  and  resolute. 

"  I've  got  to  have  some  sort  of  dish  to  put  these 
things  on,"  he  announced,  in  tones  betraying  little 
of  his  former  cheerfulness. 

Myra  fetched  a  large  platter,  which,  being  blue, 
did  duty  often  as  a  decoration. 
[46] 


CHAPTER     THREE 

"  I  am  sorry  I  forgot  about  it,"  she  said.  "  I 
hope  you  found  everything  else  you  wanted." 

"  You  have  no  call  to  concern  yourself  about 
me,"  he  answered,  frigidly. 

"  Oh,  but  I  do,"  she  protested,  "  even  if  this  is 
entirely  your  party." 

"All  right,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey.  "I  ain't 
ashamed  of  doing  anything  that  has  to  be  done." 

Almost  before  she  had  turned  away  he  rather 
rudely  pushed  the  door  to  with  his  foot,  and  Myra, 
with  a  flush  of  indignation  on  her  cheeks,  crossed 
to  a  window.  This  she  did  for  the  purpose  of 
counting  ten,  or  even  twenty,  for  she  was  conscious 
of  unfair  dealing  with  the  agent.  At  the  end  of  a 
deliberate  five  she  had  resolved  not  to  quarrel  with 
anybody  over  sausages. 

"  I  have  been  greatly  interested,"  she  heard  a 
voice  behind  her  saying.  "  Your  father's  inven 
tions  are  most  wonderful.  Especially  the  one  for 
washing  babies." 

"  No,  dishes,"  she  corrected,  laughing. 

"  Babies,  I  assure  you,"  insisted  Mr.  Christensen. 
"  Do  you  know  that  fully  one-half  never  attain  the 
first  year?" 

I  47  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     P  I  JN  E  S 

"  That  would  be  equally  true  of  either,"  sighed 
the  girl. 

"  Sir,"  said  the  Professor,  in  a  voice  of  distant 
thunder,  "  will  you  take  the  place  upon  my  right  ?  " 

"  What  shall  we  do  about  Mr.  Ramsey  ?  "  de 
manded  Mrs.  Dale  of  her  daughter,  in  an  anxious 
aside. 

"  Sit  down  and  leave  him  to  his  fate,"  the  other 
answered,  with  composure. 

The  Professor  moved  to  the  head  of  the  table, 
his  wife  toward  its  foot.  Myra  was  to  sit  facing 
the  two  guests. 

Mr.  Christensen,  before  taking  the  place  of  hon 
our,  paused  to  adjust  his  hostess'  seat.  But,  dis 
covering  this  to  be  the  nail-keg,  he  relinquished  the 
purpose,  not  without  embarrassment. 

"  Mine  is  a  churn,"  remarked  Myra,  reassur 
ingly  ;  and,  unfolding  her  napkin,  she  continued : 
"  We  live  quite  simply  in  the  pines.  I  hope  you 
do  not  dislike  sausages." 

From  a  narrow  opening  in  the  kitchen-door  Mr. 

Ramsey  watched  the  scene  with  lowering  brows.    In 

his  hands  he  held  the  large  blue  platter,  which,  for 

a  moment,  he  appeared  about  to  hurl  into  the  room. 

[481  - 


CHAPTER     THREE 

"  I  thought  you  told  us  dinner  was  ready,"  ob 
served  the  Professor,  with  a  glance  of  disapproval 
at  the  board. 

"  I  said  it  was  not  ready  quite,"  his  wife  said, 
smiling  sweetly. 

"  We  have  a  proverb  in  my  country,"  put  in  the 
Swede.  "  It  is  the  guests  that  make  the  feast.  We 
say  it  in  fewer  words,  but  that  is  the  idea." 

"  Your  language  is  so  rich  in  proverbs,"  mur 
mured  Mrs.  Dale,  who  welcomed  the  diversion. 

"  Bosh !  "  muttered  the  Professor.  "  Bosh,  bosh, 
bosh!" 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  out  and  help —  "  Myra 
began,  half  rising,  but  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Ramsey 
cut  her  short. 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself,  Miss  Dale,"  he  said, 
with  dignity.  Unflinchingly  he  put  the  big  blue 
platter  before  his  host,  but  as  he  did  so  his  lips  were 
firmly  drawn  together. 

"  They  look  delicious,"  exclaimed  Myra,  glanc 
ing  up  at  him;  but  finding  in  the  pale  eyes  no 
response,  she  added,  meanly :  "  Was  there  not  to 
be  some  mush  ?  " 

There  was  to  be  some  mush,  and  Mr.  Ramsey 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
fetched  it ;  likewise  the  teapot  and  bread  and  but 
ter.  After  this  he  made  other  trips  to  the  kitchen, 
and  returned  from  each  with  a  new  jar  bearing  an 
ornate  label — chow-chow,  mustard,  jam,  and  honey, 
all  of  which  he  had  selected  that  morning  at  the 
general  store  of  Paul  and  Peter  Shinn,  in  Thebes. 
Perhaps  it  pleased  Miss  Dale  to  fancy  he  had  not 
meant  them  to  appear  thus  in  a  body,  but  rather,  as 
it  were,  in  relays  and  reliefs,  to  serve  as  a  serial  re 
minder  of  the  absent,  each  taking  up  its  burden 
when  its  fellow  was  exhausted.  But  now,  impelled 
by  bitter  wrongs,  he  forced  them  savagely  open, 
throwing  away  the  corks,  and  spread  them  lavishly, 
recklessly,  before  her,  even  as  the  tenor  used  in 
former  times  to  shower  gold  upon  Camille.  "  Per 
mit  me  to  offer  you  a  coal  of  fire,"  he  seemed  to 
say.  "  Pray  do  not  spare  them ;  I  have  others  in 
reserve." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ramsey,  won't  you  please  sit  down," 
she  cried  at  last,  defending  her  plate  from  sugared 
ginger.  "  You  must  be  awfully  hungry." 

"  Thank  you,  Miss  Dale,"  he  hissed  between  his 
teeth.  "  You  haven't  any  call  to  think  of  me." 

"  Our   peasants  have  a  saying,"   observed  Mr. 
[50] 


CHAPTER     THREE 

Christenscn,   the  time  being  ripe   for  a  proverb, 
"  that '  He  eats  best  who  eats  last.'  " 

Myra  regarded  him  suspiciously,  but  immedi 
ately  lowered  her  eyes,  perceiving  that  he  also  re 
garded  her.  And  Mrs.  Dale  explained,  though  ex 
planations  were  unnecessary  with  a  guest  who  never 
seemed  surprised  at  anything: 

"  We  do  not  make  company  of  Mr.  Ramsey ;  we 
have  known  him  so  long." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen.  "  He  is  very  much 
to  be  envied." 

Perhaps  this  put  the  matter  in  a  new  light  to  Mr. 
Ramsey,  who  had  not  till  then  regarded  his  part  in 
the  entertainment  as  exceptionally  fortunate. 

"  If  you've  all  got  what  you  want,"  he  said,  with 
an  attempt  at  pleasantry,  "  I  might  as  well  get  in 
before  the  books  close."  Presently  he  so  far  re 
lented  toward  Myra  as  to  accept  a  sausage  at  her 
hands. 

The  Professor,  who,  knowing  his  remarks  to  be 
deserving  of  undivided  attention,  commonly  spoke 
little  at  table,  now  looked  from  one  to  another  of 
the  assembled  jars  and  pots. 

"  My  child,  where  on  earth  did  all  this  indigest 
ible  rubbish  come  from?"  he  questioned. 
[51] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  They  were  a  present,  father,"  said  his  child. 
"  You  need  eat  only  what  you  like — and  don't  you 
think  it  nice  to  have  a  variety?  " 

"  I  think  it  delightful,"  echoed  Mrs.  Dale,  who 
was  combining  strawberry  jam  and  sausage  with 
evident  relish. 

"  Yes ;  perfectly  lovely,"  went  on  Myra,  glad  of 
the  opportunity  to  make  amends.  "  I  never  could 
be  in  Park  &  Tilford's  without  wishing  everyone 
would  go  away  and  leave  me  alone  with  my  con 
science  and  a  spoon." 

"  Are  you  often  in  the  city  ? "  inquired  the 
Swede,  with  interest. 

"  Never  now ;  but  we  lived  there  once — that  is, 
we  lived  in  Astoria." 

"  So !  That  is  a  fine  hotel.  I  know  of  few  in 
Europe " 

"  Oh,  not  the  hotel !    I  mean  the  town." 

"  I  am  afraid  I  do  not  know  it." 

"  You  would  not  be  very  likely  to  go  there  for 
pleasure." 

"  Where  is  that,  my  child?  "  demanded  the  Pro 
fessor,  looking  up  from  his  plate. 

"  We  were  speaking  of  Astoria,  father,"  Myra 
[52  I 


CHAPTER     THREE 

explained.     "  I  was  advising  Mr.  Christcnscn  not 
to  go  there." 

"  But  that  is  very  foolish,"  he  returned,  reprov 
ingly.  "  It  may  be  the  very  place  where  he  would 
succeed  the  best."  And,  turning  to  his  guest,  he 
continued:  "  It  is  never  safe,  sir,  to  judge  a  given 
place  until  certain  of  what  affinity  may  exist  be 
tween  it  and  the  inquirer.  If  Jupiter  is  strong  in 
your  nativity,  you  might  do  worse,  for  there  we  find 
the  quiet  water,  symbol  of  Pisces,  which  is,  you 
know,  the  House  of  Jupiter." 

"  So !  "  assented  Mr.  Christensen.  But  it  was 
evident  that  he  did  not  know. 

"  Oh,  father,"  interrupted  Myra,  turning  crim 
son,  "  we  were  only  speaking  casually  of  Astoria. 
Nobody  has  any  thought  of  going  there." 

"  Humph !  "  grunted  the  Professor,  relapsing 
into  silence ;  and  Myra  began  at  once  to  talk  of  Mr. 
Ramsey's  horse,  a  subject  ever  grateful  to  the 
owner  of  that  worthy  beast. 

Mrs.  Dale,  when  not  occupied  with  some  train  of 

thought  suggested  by  the  talk,  poured  tea.     She 

did  this,  as  she  did  most  of  the  practical  things 

of  life,  badly,  putting  in  the  sugar  last,  and  not 

[53] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
infrequently  forgetting  which  cups  were  sweetened 
and  which  not. 

If  during  the  earlier  part  of  the  meal  Mr.  Ram 
sey  abstained  from  food,  his  self-denial  produced 
no  visible  effect  upon  the  person  whom  its  object 
was  to  sadden,  and  later  he  did  much  to  justify  the 
Swedish  saying.  As  Myra  had  remarked,  life  in 
the  pines  was  simple ;  and  twenty  minutes  after  the 
appearance  of  the  blue  platter  the  company  joined 
the  chickens  before  the  door. 

"  If  I  were  a  rich  man,"  proclaimed  Mr.  Ramsey, 
throwing  out  his  chest  and  casting  an  approving 
eye  about,  "  I  should  build  me  a  nice,  comfortable 
house  right  over  there  where  you  see  that  log.  Yes, 
there's  where  it  would  be — right  there  and  nowhere 
else."  At  dinner  he  had  been  at  times  not  wholly 
at  his  ease;  now,  in  the  open,  self-confidence  set 
free,  bounded  a  trifle.  Stooping,  Mr.  Ramsey  took 
a  chip  from  the  ground,  which,  with  his  penknife, 
he  deftly  split  in  two.  "  You  may  talk  about  your 
cities  all  you  like ;  I  would  not  have  the  best  house 
in  any  of  them  as  a  gift,  not  if  I  had  to  live  in 
it,"  he  began  afresh.  But  Myra,  apprehensive  lest 
[54] 


CHAPTER    THREE 

further  division  of  the  chip  might  result  in  a  tooth 
pick,  borrowed  the  knife. 

"Wouldn't  you  sooner  have  the  little  blade?" 
he  asked,  considerately. 

"  No,  thank  you ;  this  will  do,"  she  answered, 
sweetly.  "  I  only  want  to  loosen  the  earth  in  this 
flower-pot." 

"  Then  keep  it  till  you  see  me  again,"  he  said. 
"  If  we  are  going  to  look  at  anything,  I  guess  we 
had  better  get  a  move  on  us." 

"  I  am  at  your  orders,"  replied  the  visitor. 
"  What  shall  you  show  me  next  ?  " 

"  We'll  go  down  to  the  south  boundary,  I  guess," 
replied  the  agent.  "  We  can  have  a  look  at  the 
land  there,  and,  when  we  are  good  and  ready,  go 
back  another  way,  by  what  we  call  the  Ocean 
Road." 

"  So !     And  we  shall  go  back  another  way  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it's  nearer  from  where  we'd  be,  and  a  long 
sight  better  road.  I'll  get  you  back  to  Thebes  in 
time  for  supper,  and  after  that  you'll  have  two 
hours  to  get  the  train." 

"  That  will  do  very  well,"  agreed  the  other,  with- 
[55] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
out  enthusiasm ;  and,  as  an  after-thought,  he  asked : 
"  Does  this  land  we  are  to  see  differ  greatly  from 
that  we  have  already  seen  ?  " 

"  Not  very  much,"  admitted  the  agent,  reluct 
antly.  "  It's  a  bit  more  rolling,  and  the  trees  are 
some  bigger,  and  the  soil " 

"  Ah,  the  soil  must  be  examined  by  others  better 
qualified.  I  am  only  here  to  judge  how  the  col 
onists  would  like  the  country.  Our  chairman  is  a 
believer  in  first  impressions." 

"  In  that  case,"  put  in  the  Professor,  who  had 
been  alert  for  an  opportunity  to  offer  suggestions ; 
"  in  that  case  I  should  advise  a  walk  in  the  woods. 
One  misses  many  beauties  from  the  road.  Now,  in 
the  direction  of  the  mineral  spring " 

"  I  guess  that  spring  will  keep  a  while,"  said  Mr. 
Ramsey,  bluntly,  for  with  him  the  pointing  out  of 
boundaries  was  a  passion;  but  Mr.  Christensen 
seemed  well-disposed  toward  the  spring. 

"  You  will  find  it  a  short  mile,  sir,  and  a  pleasant 
walk,"  his  host  assured  him. 

"  So !    Then  my  vote  is  for  the  spring.    Perhaps 
the  ladies  might  be  persuaded  to  accompany  us," 
[56] 


CHAPTER     THREE 

said  Mr.   Christcnscn,  which  courteous  suggestion 
neither  of  the  ladies  thought  best  to  hear. 

"  All  right,  you're  the  doctor,"  acquiesced  the 
agent,  with  a  touch  of  patronage.  "  Anyway,  I 
guess  walking  would  be  pleasanter  for  anyone  not 
used  to  buggies;  but  we'll  have  to  step  out  lively 
to  keep  up  with  the  Professor." 

"So?" 

"  Father,  here  is  your  hat,"  said  Myra,  duti 
fully?  after  a  momentary  absence.  As  she  held  out 
the  ample  head  covering  she  saw  a  thread  upon  the 
brim,  which  she  removed  with  so  much  care  that 
a  glance  of  anxious  inquiry  directed  toward  her 
passed  unobserved. 

The  Professor  took  the  hat,  and  seemed  to  crown 
himself. 

"  This  spring,"  he  explained  to  those  it  might 
concern,  "  may  possibly  be  of  such  importance  as 
to  bring  about  an  entire  change  in  the  purposes  of 
the  Development  Company.  Fortunately,  there  is 
room  here  for  a  vast  modern  sanitarium." 

It  evidently  occurred  to  the  Professor  that  Mr. 
Ramsey  had  been,  in   a  way,  left  out  and  over- 
[57] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
ridden,  and  now,  to  make  amends,  he  seized  that 
gentleman  firmly  by  the  arm,  and,  ever  impatient 
of  delays  of  which  he  himself  was  not  the  cause, 
impelled  him  toward  the  forest. 

Mr.  Christensen  assumed  the  air  of  one  who 
waits.  Unseen  by  him  Mrs.  Dale  and  Myra  ex 
changed  a  glance.  It  was  not  the  first  time  these 
two  had  been  left  to  save  a  situation.  Mrs.  Dale's 
head  inclined  toward  the  receding  figures,  and 
Myra's  bent  in  comprehension. 

"  If  you  are  ready,  mother,  perhaps  we  had 
better  start,"  she  said  aloud. 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  go." 

"  So  ?  "  said  Mr.  Christensen,  a  chapter  of  re 
gret  in  one  syllable. 

"  We  can  overtake  them  in  a  moment,"  Myra 
said.  "  I  will  just  run  and  get  my  hat."  And  so 
saying  she  disappeared  around  the  corner  of  the 
house.  When  she  returned  the  blue  cotton  sun- 
bonnet  was  upon  her  head,  and  she  held  a  package 
covered  with  brown  paper  in  her  hand. 

"  What  in  the  world  have  you  there  ?  "  inquired 
her  mother. 

[58] 


CHAPTER     THREE 
"  Only  something  to  drink  out  of." 
"  Dear  me !     But  do  be  careful  of  the  spring ; 
I'm  sure  it's  poisonous." 

"  Yes,  mother ;  I'll  be  careful." 
"  Myra,"  said  her  mother,  in  a  histrionic  whis 
per,  taking  advantage  of  an  auspicious  moment, 
"  did  you  notice  your  father's  feet?  " 

"  Yes,  mother ;  he  had  on  his  green  slippers." 
"  Dear  me !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Dale.     "  How  dread 
ful!" 


[59] 


CHAPTER   FOUR 


CHAPTER  IV 

MR.  CHRISTENSEN  begged  to  be  al 
lowed  to  carry  the  package,  but  Myra 
insisted  on  retaining  it. 

"  If  you  wish  to  study  the  property  and  are  not 
accustomed  to  walking  on  pine-needles,"  she  said, 
"  you  will  have  quite  enough  responsibility." 

"  But  I  am  not  here  to  study  anything,"  he  pro 
tested.  "  I  came  only  to  bring  back  an  impres 
sion." 

As  they  set  out  briskly  across  the  clearing,  the 
others,  who  had  been  waiting  on  ahead,  resumed 
their  way.  The  Professor,  moving  with  long,  ner 
vous  strides,  alternately  grasped  Mr.  Ramsey  by 
the  arm  to  urge  him  forward  or,  where  the  path 
was  narrow,  drove  him  ahead  as  an  impatient 
parent  propels  a  reluctant  offspring.  As  he  walked 
he  waved  his  arm  in  stately,  sweeping  gestures.  His 
[63] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

deep,  monotonous  voice  reverberating  through  the 
forest  was  like  that  of  a  Druid  chanting  strange 
antiphones. 

For  a  time  Myra  and  her  companion  made  con 
scientious  efforts  to  overcome  their  handicap,  but 
once  well  in  the  forest  such  spurts  became  more 
difficult,  and  finally  they  lost  sight  of  their  leaders 
altogether.  It  was  then  that  Mr.  Ramsey  gave 
vent  to  a  reassuring  woodland  whoop. 

"  Please  answer  him,"  said  Myra.  "  I  haven't 
any  breath." 

"  Nor  I,"  declared  the  visitor.  Nevertheless  he 
gallantly  complied. 

After  a  minute  Mr.  Ramsey  called  again,  this 
time  apparently  from  a  still  greater  distance. 
When  Myra  turned  to  her  companion  in  implied 
command  he  gave  a  feeble  "  coo." 

"  That  is  not  loud  enough,"  she  objected,  and, 
standing  still,  lifted  her  own  voice  in  a  melodious 
yodel.  Mr.  Christensen  immediately  took  up  the 
bass,  miraculously  well  for  one  so  short  of  breath. 
It  was  characteristic  of  him  that  the  right  note 
should  come  without  apparent  effort,  as  Myra  was 
beginning  to  perceive.  Whether  the  song  might 
[64] 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

be  of  cranberry   bogs  or  lace,  Mr.   Christensen's 
second  was  without  a  flaw. 

"  I  am  sure  you  could  go  faster  without  me,"  she 
said,  regretfully,  for  the  duet  had  cost  them  nearly 
fifty  yards. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  he  admitted,  laughing ;  "  but,  for 
tunately,  I  do  not  know  the  way." 

"  And,  unfortunately,  I  do  not  either,"  she  re 
joined. 

"  So !  "  said  her  companion,  coming  to  another 
halt,  and  regarding  her  with  a  consternation  clearly 
disingenuous;  and  for  a  moment  they  stood  quite 
still  to  listen.  But  whatever  further  woodland 
demonstrations  the  agent  may  have  made  were  lost 
in  the  more  aggressive  calling  of  the  pines. 

"  Perhaps  they  will  come  back  to  look  for  us," 
speculated  Mr.  Christensen. 

"  I  am  afraid  not,"  Myra  answered,  flushing 
slightly.  "  Father  is  so  forgetful  when  he  is 
interested  in  anything,  and  you  see  this  mineral 
spring  is  quite  important." 

"So!"  assented  Mr.  Christensen,  adding:    "I 
should  think   anyone  who  could  breathe   this  air 
would  have  little  need  of  a  mineral  spring." 
[65] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

He  had  taken  off  his  hat,  and  a  resinous  wind 
rumpled  his  northern  hair.  His  blue  eyes  sought 
the  forest  vistas. 

"  This  is  my  first  full  day  away  from  the  office 
all  summer,"  he  declared,  with  artful  pathos,  and 
Myra  fancied  him  a  trifle  pale.  Contrasted  with 
the  ruddy  Mr.  Ramsey  he  was  decidedly  pale. 

"  Shall  we  go  back?  "  she  suggested,  hesitating. 
"  Apart  from  father's  spring  the  property  is  just 
like  this  for  miles  and  miles." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen.  "  Then  I  should 
miss  nothing." 

"  No,  nothing,"  she  assured  him ;  "  it  is  all  the 
same — pines  and  sand,  with  here  and  there  a  clear 
ing  where  the  charcoal  pits  used  to  be,  such  as  that 
one  to  the  left  where  you  see  an  opening  through 
the  trees." 

"  Charcoal?  "  repeated  Mr.  Christensen,  at  once 
deeply  interested.  And  Myra,  anxious  to  make 
amends  for  any  loss  of  information  her  presence 
had  occasioned  him,  became  reasonably  accurate 
concerning  charcoal. 

"  I  could  explain  about  it  better  if  you  will  come 
with  me  to  the  pit." 

[66] 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

"  Gladly,"  said  Mr.  Christcnsen,  "  or  even  to  the 
abyss." 

They  retraced  their  steps  along  the  uncertain, 
half-obliterated  path  to  where  a  still  fainter  trail 
across  the  smooth  brown  crust  of  fallen  needles  led 
winding  into  the  depths  of  the  forest. 

The  trees  were  larger  here  than  at  the  cross 
roads,  their  branches  interwoven  overhead  were  like 
the  wattle  of  an  eagle's  nest.  As  the  afternoon  drew 
on  the  autumn  haze  had  thickened,  and  in  the  cool 
green  tenebrze  an  infrequent  sunbeam  here  and  there 
fell  as  through  painted  glass.  Myra  had  pushed 
back  her  blue  sun-bonnet  till  it  hung  about  her 
shoulders,  leaving  her  bronze  hair  free.  Her  faded 
dress  trailed  noiselessly.  As,  holding  her  mysteri 
ous  burden  tight,  she  looked  about  a  trifle  anxiously 
for  landmarks  secret  with  herself,  her  figure  grew 
significant,  centring  the  interest  of  the  picture  in 
a  touch  of  human  purpose. 

The  young  man  held  back  a  low-hanging  bough 
till  she  had  passed,  and  as  he  followed  it  swung 
again  across  the  path  as  though  a  door  had  closed 
behind  them. 

"  It  was  good  of  you  to  bring  me  here,"  he  said, 
[67] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
forgetting  that  it  was  the  same  wood  that  had 
wearied  him  in  the  morning. 

"  Then  you  can  reward  me  by  dragging  your 
feet  as  much  as  possible,"  she  rejoined.  "  If  I  do 
not  come  here  for  a  day  the  path  almost  disap 
pears." 

"  And  do  you  come  here  often  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Yes ;  nearly  every  day.  There  is  a  birch-tree 
that  is  turning  yellow,  and  a  little  pool." 

"  So !  "  The  monosyllable  expressed  a  personal 
sympathy. 

"  But  you  are  to  walk  behind,  you  know,"  she 
reminded  him.  "  And  don't  neglect  to  drag." 

"  We  have  a  saying  in  Sweden,"  he  returned,  as 
he  obeyed  resignedly,  "  that  when  a  woman  wills 
to  lead,  the  fiend  himself  must  follow." 

"  I  should  have  invented  a  better  proverb  if  I 
were  behind,"  commented  Myra.  "  We  have  a  say 
ing  in  Astoria,  '  If  not  sure  of  the  merit  of  your 
ideas  quote  them  as  another's.' ' 

Mr.  Christensen  laughed  a  guilty  laugh. 

"  Till  now,"  he  said,  "  I  have  found  my  Swedish 
proverbs  most  successful." 

After  some  other  moments  of  silent  following,  he 

remarked : 

[68] 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

"  Would  not  this  be  just  the  place  where  one 
might  expect  to  meet  a  Nisse?  " 

"  I  should  not  know  one  by  sight,"  she  confessed 
across  her  shoulder.  "  I  only  know  things  that  are 
mentioned  in  the  Bible  or  the  Patent  Office  reports. 
Please  tell  me  what  a  Nisse  is." 

"  That  would  be  imprudent  at  this  distance,"  he 
explained ;  "  their  hearing  is  remarkably  acute." 

"  Really  ?  "  demanded  Myra,  slackening  her  pace 
and  moving  a  little  to  one  side.  She  did  not  be 
lieve  in  sprites,  nor  had  she  an  implicit  trust  in  her 
informant's  facts;  but  no  subject  can  be  discussed 
with  ease  across  one's  shoulder. 

With  every  outward  sign  of  seriousness  he  told 
her  of  the  Robin  Goodfcllow  of  the  North;  how 
helpful  he  could  be  at  times,  and  of  the  tricks  he 
played  on  sleeping  peasants.  There  followed  other 
bits  of  folk-lore,  stories  of  familiar  pixies  she  had 
known  before  with  other  names.  Now  meeting 
them  again,  with  his  grave  blue  eyes  to  give  them 
actuality,  they  seemed  new  people  in  the  pinelands, 
new  settlers  under  Mr.  Christensen's  direction. 

"  I  shall  never  walk  here  again  without  imagin 
ing  I  am  about  to  meet  one  of  your  countrymen," 
she  declared,  laughing. 

[691 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  I  trust  it  will  not  always  be  in  imagination,'1 
he  replied.  Which  she  took  to  be  a  reference  to 
the  colony. 

"  Of  course  I  want  the  company  to  succeed," 
she  said;  "  but  don't  you  like  it  better  as  it  is?" 

About  them  was  the  murmur  of  the  woods,  the 
Song  of  the  World  at  Peace,  the  Eden  Song  of  Soli 
tude.  Before  them  new  paths  opened  at  every  step, 
some  leading  into  shadow,  others  to  where  the  light 
lay  warm ;  some  ending  but  a  little  way  ahead,  and 
others  infinitely  long.  It  seemed  that  they  might 
choose  one  of  many  ways,  where  all  were  free. 

Presently  they  came  out  upon  an  ancient  clear 
ing,  larger  than  that  of  the  cross-roads  and  over 
grown  breast-high  with  the  stunted  oaks  and  laurels 
that  follow  when  the  pines  are  cut. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  she  said.  "  That  bare  spot 
was  the  pit  where  they  used  to  burn  the  charcoal., 
There  is  the  hut  they  lived  in,  and  yonder  beside 
the  birch-tree  is  the  water  needed  to  keep  the  fire 
under  control.  You  see  it  was  most  convenient." 

Her  voice  reflected  the  anxiety  her  eyes  expressed, 
that  he  should  not  be  disappointed,  having  come  so 
far.  But  perhaps  the  gentleman  beside  her  was 
[701 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

quick  to  grasp  commercial  possibilities.  At  all 
events  he  asked  no  further  questions  concerning 
charcoal.  Perhaps  he  saw  only  an  autumn  sky, 
gloriously  bright  after  the  shadow,  the  oak  and 
laurel  shrubs  like  a  planted  labyrinth  in  some  old 
garden  walled  by  sombre  pines.  One  can  find 
beauty  almost  anywhere  when  one  is  in  the  mood 
to  seek  it. 

"  Why  did  the  charcoal  people  ever  go  away?  " 
he  asked,  his  eyes  upon  the  ruined  hut. 

"  I  suppose  they  were  driven  off,"  she  told  him. 
"  You  see  they  had  no  right  to  be  here.  Even  this 
miserable  little  scrap  of  earth,  where  they  worked 
hard  and  lived  as  honestly  as  they  knew  how,  be 
longed  to  someone  else." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen,  looking  down  at 
her,  half  in  amusement,  wholly  in  approval ;  "  you 
and  my  uncle  would  agree.  He  says  it  took  men 
a  million  years  to  discover  that  equality  was  self- 
evident,  and  then  they  straightway  forgot  the 
fact." 

"  Your  uncle  must  be  a  very  sensible  man,"  she 
answered,  warmly.  "  I  am  sure  I  should  like  him." 

"  I  know  you  will,"  said  Mr.  Christensen,  and 
[71  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
Myra  reflected  on  the  difficulties  foreigners  must 
have  in  mastering  the  finer  shades  of  English. 

This  was  not  the  first  allusion  to  the  uncle,  whom 
Myra,  with  small  reason,  pictured  as  a  large  and 
very  neat  old  gentleman.  But  apart  from  a  few 
of  his  opinions  she  learnt  no  more  of  him  that  after 
noon. 

"  Am  I  to  be  allowed  no  further  than  the  edge 
of  your  domain?  "  asked  the  nephew.  "  You  spoke 
of  a  spring,  and  I  am  very  thirsty." 

"  But  the  spring  is  just  as  unpleasant  as 
father's,"  she  replied.  "  I  think  mine  is  flavoured 
with  marl." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen ;  "  but  I  am  very 
thirsty." 

"  Then  follow  me,"  said  Myra,  entering  the 
maze ;  and  through  a  devious  way  she  led  him  past 
the  pit  and  ruined  hut  to  where  the  birch-trees' 
autumn  leaves  hung  quivering  overhead  or  lay  like 
yellow  coins  on  the  brown  ground.  A  corporal's 
guard  of  pines  surrounded  it,  and  at  its  foot  a  little 
pool  drew  down  a  fragment  of  the  autumn  sky. 
The  grass  about  the  pool  grew  so  green  and  tall 
it  might  almost  have  been  rushes.  Under  the  trees 
[72] 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

were  signs  of  Myra's  former  visits — a  torn  en 
velope,  threads  of  wool,  a  branch  she  had  made  use 
of  for  a  rake. 

"  Of  course  it  is  not  really  pretty,"  she  ex 
plained,  apologetically.  "  It  is  only  so  by  con 
trast,  as  a  solitary  pine  would  be  where  everything 
is  bright." 

"  But  beauty  must  be  beautiful  wherever  it  is," 
objected  Mr.  Christensen,  developing  an  unexpected 
taste  for  abstract  argument,  as  he  had  not  appeared 
to  be  greatly  taken  with  the  tree. 

"  No,"  she  insisted,  "even  that  ragged  little 
flower,  which  is  perfect  where  it  is,  would  be  only 
a  blue  spot  in  a  field  with  others." 

"  Then  it  is  foolish  to  remember  that  there  may 
be  others,"  he  answered,  philosophically.  "  And  it 
is  foolish  just  at  present  to  remember  anything  ex 
cept  that  this  is  a  good  place  to  sit  down  and  rest 
while  I  bring  you  some  water." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  answered.  "  You  will  find 
a  china  cup  on  the  roots  of  the  birch-tree." 

As  she  chose  a  seat  upon  the  ground  at  the  foot 
of  a  convenient  tree,  her  package  recalled  itself  by 
a  mysterious  sound  proceeding  from  within.    From 
the  pool  Mr.  Christensen  called  back,  boyishly: 
F731 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

""  There  is  a  cricket  in  the  cup ;  shall  I  bring  him, 
too?" 

"  No,"  she  replied ;  "  be  careful  not  to  hurt  him, 
and  bring  me  the  cup  empty." 

"Empty?" 

"  Yes,  please." 

When  he  had  climbed  the  bank  and  knelt  before 
her,  offering  the  cup,  she  said: 

"  I  have  just  remembered  that  I  have  a  bottle 
of  wine." 

She  had  removed  its  wrappings  and  held  Mr. 
Ramsey's  tribute  up  complacently. 

For  once  the  Swede's  blue  eyes  betrayed  sur 
prise. 

"  We  have  a  saying  in  Sweden — "  he  began. 

"  We  have  a  saying  in  Astoria — "  Myra  inter 
rupted,  warningly. 

"  We  have  a  saying,"  he  persisted,  "  that  he  who 
questions  fortune  runs  a  risk  of  an  answer." 

"  Of  course,  I  thought  there  would  be  a  larger 
party,"  she  explained,  "  and  father's  spring  might 
be  untasteable — "  And,  with  rueful  eyes  upon  her 
treasure,  "  I  never  thought  at  all  about  the  cork." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen.     "  Then  I  was  the 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

more  prudent."  And  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
knife  of  many  blades,  one  opportunely  spiral.  "  I 
have  brought  also  something  else  that  may  be  use 
ful,"  he  added,  exhibiting  a  silver  telescopic  cup. 
"  In  case  I  should  happen  to  find  a  bottle  of  wine 
in  the  woods,"  he  explained. 

When  he  had  filled  the  silver  cup  for  her,  the 
other  one  for  himself,  he  said : 

"  Now  you  must  propose  a  toast." 

"  But  I  do  not  know  any,"  she  protested.  "  I 
have  scarcely  ever  tasted  wine  before.  What  do 
people  generally  say  ?  " 

"  In  Sweden  we  give  sentiments,"  he  answered. 
"  I  will  tell  you  one  my  uncle  has  translated  if  you 
will  touch  my  cup  with  yours  and  drink  a  pledge." 

Myra  assented,  laughing,  and  obeyed  instruc 
tions,  striking  the  silver  rim  of  her  cup  against  his 
china  one. 

"  Remember  that  it  is  a  pledge !  "  he  said. 

"  To  me  and  you 
When  skies  are  blue. 
To  you  and  me 
When  tempests  be. 
To  both  together 
In  every  weather  !  " 
[75] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  But  that  is  not  fair !  "  she  protested,  flushing. 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  say  '  Skoal  to  the 
Norseman,  skoal ! '  or  something  like  that." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  do  not  approve  of  my 
toast,"  he  said,  repentantly ;  "  but  I  am  afraid  it  is 
now  too  late  to  take  it  back." 

Myra,  looking  straight  into  the  forest,  sipped 
her  cup. 

"  Does  all  wine  taste  as  sour  as  this?  "  she  asked 
him,  with  a  slight  grimace. 

"  No ;  sometimes  it  is  sweeter — though  this  is  ex 
cellent,"  he  answered,  taking  a  generous  draft 
unmoved. 

Myra  ventured  upon  another  cautious  sip. 

"  It  must  be  fresh,"  she  speculated,  doubtfully, 
"  because  they  manufacture  it  in  Thebes." 

"  So?  "  said  Mr.  Christensen.  "  Then  we  may 
be  certain  it  is  absolutely  fresh." 

The  confidence  with  which  he  spoke  was  reas 
suring,  though  after  this  the  bottle  ceased  to  be 
a  factor. 

When,  following  several  changes,  he  found  a 
comfortable  seat  directly  facing  her,  he  asked  per 
mission  to  light  a  cigarette;  and  Myra,  nodding 
[76] 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

her  consent,  tried  to  recall  anyone  whom  she  had 
known  who  would  have  thought  the  question  needed 
in  the  open  air. 

Observing  the  silver  case  beside  him  on  the 
needles,  she  remarked: 

"  What  a  variety  of  attractive  things  you  carry 
in  your  pocket." 

"  That  box  was  a  present  from  my  uncle,"  he 
replied.  "  Would  you  care  to  see  it  close?  " 

"  I  should,  if  you  will  throw  it  to  me  without 
getting  up,"  she  admitted. 

One  side  displayed  a  monogram  in  which  the 
letter  C  alone  was  unmistakable.  The  other  in 
enamel,  a  young  lady  of  the  ballet  in  the  act  of 
smoking,  her  attitude,  as  that  of  a  cat  beside  her, 
expressing  reposeful  satisfaction.  Beneath  the 
picture  was  a  mysterious  word  of  two  syllables. 

"  And  what  does  '  Ron-ron  '  mean?"  inquired 
Myra. 

"  I  do  not  know  in  English,"  he  replied ;  "  but 
it  is  the  song  of  a  cat  when  contented." 

"  Oh,  yes ;   purring,"   she   interpreted,   turning 
again  to  the  picture.     The  lady  with  the  cat  ap 
peared  to  laugh.     Aside  from  certain  eccentricities 
[771 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
of  costume  she  was  a  young  lady  one  would  not 
mind  looking  like. 

An  accidental  pressure  of  a  spring  opening 
some  concealed  compartment  released  many  wax 
matches,  which  fell  into  her  lap.  These  Myra 
gathered  carefully  together  and  restored ;  but  when 
the  lid  was  closed  again  one  had  been  overlooked, 
and  lay  suggesting  daring  possibilities. 

Above  Mr.  Christensen,  against  his  tree,  blue 
wreaths  of  smoke  floated  in  the  still  air,  grew  thin, 
and  disappeared.  And  their  production  seemed  to 
afford  him  a  sufficient  reason  for  doing  nothing 
else.  It  was  unfair  that,  when  two  were  equally 
idle,  one  should  be  given  such  advantage — that  one 
alone  should  have  the  purring  faculty. 

Myra  put  one  of  the  little  rolls  of  paper  between 
her  lips  and  paused ;  an  experiment  which  need  have 
gone  no  farther. 

"  Would  you  like  a  light  ?  "  he  asked,  regarding 
her  with  interest  but  without  concern. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  answered ;  "  there  are  matches 
here." 

Myra's  results  were  creditable  for  a  first  attempt ; 
that  is,  she  did  not  actually  cough,  and  the  tears 
[781 


CHAPTER     FOUR 
which  started  to  her  eyes  at  times  remained  unshed. 

"  You  are  getting  on  beautifully,"  remarked 
Mr.  Christensen,  with  encouraging  patronage,  at 
the  same  time  parading  his  own  proficiency. 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  a  ring,"  she  rejoined,  in 
humble  admiration.  "  But  I  suppose  it  takes  a  long 
time  to  become  thoroughly  depraved." 

"  And  even  then,"  he  answered,  seriously,  "  one 
should  possess  a  natural  gift  to  be  successful." 

"  You  are  not  at  all  encouraging,"  she  declared, 
throwing  the  half-burnt  cigarette  away.  As  she 
did  so,  some  ashes  fell  upon  her  dress. 

"  Be  careful  or  you  will  set  yourself  on  fire,"  he 
cautioned  her. 

"  That  would  fulfil  my  horoscope,"  she  answered, 
laughing.  "  Someday  I  am  to  be  in  great  peril 
through  fire." 

Mr.  Christensen's  blue  eyes  opened  wider. 

"  And  has  some  stupid  fortune-teller  told  you 
that?"  he  asked,  without  alarm. 

"  No,"  she  replied.  "  I  read  it  in  my  horoscope 
myself.  I  was  born  under  Taurus,  you  know,  with 
Venus  in  the  ascendant  on  her  throne  in  dexter 
square,  with  Mars  afflicted  in  a  house  of  fire.  Is 
not  that  absolutely  convincing?  " 
[79] 


MYRA    OF     THE     PINES 

"  You  are  not  serious,"  asserted  Mr.  Christensen. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  indeed  I  am,"  she  insisted ;  "  serious 
but  not  frightened.  With  Venus  so  well  placed 
and  powerful  I  am  almost  certain  to  be  rescued. 
I  hope  it  will  be  by  someone  nice." 

"  By  one  whom  you  will  marry,"  he  suggested, 
rather  vehemently. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  she  assented,  lightly.  "  But  if 
the  planets  are  often  vague  about  such  things  it  is 
because  we  do  not  know  how  to  read  them.  A  little 
detail  easy  to  overlook  makes  so  much  difference. 
Some  unimportant  aspect " 

"  And  what,  pray,  is  an  aspect  ?  "  he  interrupted 
her  to  ask. 

"  An  aspect,"  she  explained,  "  is  where  two 
bodies  come  within  each  other's  radius  of  influ 
ence " 

"  One  does  not  need  the  wisdom  of  the  ages  to 
understand  that  much,"  he  declared.  "  When  two 
bodies  are  within  each  other's  influence,  what  gen 
erally  happens?" 

"  That  would  depend,"  she  told  him,  conscien 
tiously,  "  on  whether  the  aspect  was  good  or  bad, 

or  if  another  body  interposed "  ^ 

[80] 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen,  with  increasing  in 
terest.  And  at  that  moment  the  woodland  whoop 
of  Mr.  Ramsey  rang  cheerily  among  the  trees. 

"  We  must  go  back,"  cried  Myra,  springing  to 
her  feet. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  demanded,  following  her  example ; 
"  because  the  other  body  interposed  ?  " 

Swiftly  and  almost  in  silence  they  retraced  their 
steps,  almost  with  a  guilty  consciousness  of  truancy. 
Not  till  the  cross-road  clearing  showed  between  the 
trees  did  they  exchange  a  dozen  sentences.  Then 
he  said: 

"  Please  wait  one  moment.  This  Mr.  Ramsey 
may  not  allow  me  another  opportunity  to  thank  you 
for  showing  me  the  charcoal  pit." 

"  Oh,  that  was  nothing,1"  she  protested,  hastily  ; 
"  it  was  through  me  you  missed  seeing  a  great  deal 
more  of  the  property." 

"  One  should  not  attempt  to  learn  too  much  in 
a  single  visit,"  he  replied,  so  earnestly  that  it  was 
impossible  not  to  understand  his  meaning.  What 
ever  the  fate  of  the  colony  might  be,  this  was  not 
their  last  meeting. 

Myra  turned  away  her  head. 
[81] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Then  you  are  coming  back  ?  "  she  tried  to  say, 
without  undue  concern. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  softly.     "  If  I  may." 

As  she  took  a  step  toward  the  cross-roads  foe 
caught  her  hand  and  held  her  back. 

"  If  I  may,"  he  said  again.  "  If  you  tell  me  that 
I  may." 

"  But  what  have  I  to  do  with  it?  "  she  asked, 
drawing  away  from  him. 

"  Everything,"  he  answered. 

With  an  effort  she  released  her  hand,  then  turned 
to  face  him.  Her  heart  beat  wildly  and  her  eyes 
were  bright. 

"  I  do  not  believe  you,  Mr.  Christensen,"  she 
said,  resolutely.  And  for  the  moment  this  was  true. 
She  had  never  before  known  anyone  so  tall,  so  care 
fully  attired,  so  absolutely  the  master  of  himself, 
so  far  beyond  the  radius  of  her  influence,  she 
thought,  and  this  with  no  depreciation  of  herself. 
It  had  simply  happened  in  the  chance  of  things 
that  she  and  he  were  separated  by  an  earth's  diam 
eter,  as  snow-flakes  fallen  at  opposing  poles. 

"  At  least  you  will  not  forbid  me  to  come  back," 
he  urged. 

[82] 


CHAPTER     FOUR 

Myra  laughed.  New  light  had  come  to  her,  and 
by  it  she  could  see  her  bearings  clearly,  so  she 
thought. 

"  Yes,  I  forbid  it,"  she  rejoined.  "  I  forbid  you 
absolutely  to  come.  That  gives  our  walk  what  my 
mother  calls  an  artistic  ending,  and  you  need  never 
think  of  it  again." 

"  And  shall  you  forget  it?  "  he  demanded,  as  he 
moved  beside  her. 

"  Oh,  no,  indeed,"  she  assured  him ;  "  but  then 
I  shall  see  the  birch-tree  every  day.  To-rnorrow 
the  bottle  will  be  there  to  remind  me." 

"  And  some  day  I  shall  be  there  to  remind  you," 
he  insisted ;  which  speech,  being  in  the  nature  of  an 
anticlimax,  deserved  no  response. 

"  Hello !  "  called  Mr.  Ramsey,  catching  sight  of 
them.  "  How  far  did  you  folks  get  ?  " 

"  To  Robin  Hood's  barn  and  back,"  Myra  an 
swered,  gaily.  "  Another  time  we  will  keep  to  the 
travelled  road." 


f  83 


CHAPTER  FIVE 


CHAPTER  V 

BESIDE  the  wood-pile  Mr.  Ramsey's  horse 
was  undergoing  harnessing.     But  his  ears, 
thrown  back  in  token  of  displeasure,  came 
forward  on  the  approach  of  one  who  sometimes 
made  atonement  with  sugar  for  unkind  things  said 
behind  his  pale  brown  back.     Mr.  Ramsey's  ears 
were,  figuratively,  also  back,  but  he,  too,  had  a 
taste  for  sugar.     A  very  little  went  a  long  way 
with  both  the  agent  and  his  horse. 

"  Did  you  get  anything  out  of  him?  "  inquired 
Mr.  Ramsey,  in  a  whisper,  as  he  looked  up  from  a 
trace.  Mr.  Christensen,  who  had  gone  on,  now 
stood  with  Mrs.  Dale  among  her  fowls,  quite  out  of 
hearing. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  demanded  Myra,  puz 
zled  for  the  moment  by  the  sudden  change  of  focus. 
"  Did  he  express  any  views  about  the  property?  " 
87 


MYRA     OF    THE     PINES 

"  Oh,  yes ;  he  seemed  to  think  some  things  about 
it  very  pretty." 

"  Pretty !  "  Mr.  Ramsey  wound  the  breeching- 
strap  three  times  about  the  shaft. 

"  Yes ;  nice  for  settlers,  I  suppose.  But,  of 
course,  he  would  not  tell  me  if  he  meant  to  buy  it." 

"  He's  cute  enough  to  keep  that  to  himself,"  com 
mented  Mr.  Ramsey,  drawing  the  strap  tight  and 
buckling  it.  "  What  else  did  he  say?  " 

"  Oh,  very  little." 

Mr.  Ramsey  chuckled. 

"  I  guess  he  ain't  much  used  to  being  with 
ladies,"  he  speculated.  "  He  talked  all  right  with 
jne.  I'm  glad  you  took  him  to  the  pit.  There's 
money  in  charcoal." 

"  What  did  you  think  of  the  spring?  "  Myra 
asked.  "  Is  there  anything  in  that?  " 

Mr.  Ramsey  smiled  mysteriously. 

"  There's  iron  in  it,  sure,"  he  said. 

"  Do  you  think  so,  really?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  fished  out  an  old  kettle  that  the  burners 

must  have  thrown  in.    It  was  rusty,  and  had  turned 

the  water  red."     Mr.  Ramsey  laughed  outright  as 

he  recalled  the  humour  of  the  situation,  but,  -seeing 

[88] 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

that  his  listener  did  not  join,  he  added,  hastily :  "  It 
was  a  joke  on  the  Professor,  but  I'm  glad  that 
foreign  fellow  wasn't  along." 

A  little  later  Myra,  seated  on  the  lean-to  step 
with  her  head  against  the  door-post,  watched  Mr. 
Ramsey  climb  into  his  buggy  and  disappear  behind 
the  house.  She  heard  her  mother  call  a  blithe  good 
bye,  and  guessed,  from  certain  words  of  Mr.  Ram 
sey's,  that  the  buggy-wheel  had  grazed  the  sun-dial 
stump — some  obvious  pleasantry  about  "  taking 
time,"  at  which  Mr.  Christensen  had  laughed, 
though  she  was  sure  he  did  not  think  it  funny. 

"  We  shall  hope  to  see  you  here  again,"  called 
Mrs.  Dale,  and  Myra,  from  her  door-step,  threw  a 
chip  at  Brigham  Young,  who  chuckled  mockingly 
at  her  from  around  a  corner. 

Then  silence  fell  upon  the  pinelands,  and  the 
chill  of  autumn  afternoon.  By-and-by,  when  it  was 
nearly  dark,  she  heard  the  whistle  of  the  tannery 
in  Thebes,  eight  miles  away;  and  wondering  that 
it  should  be  so  late,  Myra  rose  and  went  in  to  find 
her  mother. 

In  the  living-room  beside  a  lamp  Mrs.  Dale  cor 
rected  proof. 

[891 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Why,  Myra,  where  on  earth  have  you  been?  " 
demanded  the  good  lady,  looking  up. 

"  Oh,  nowhere  in  particular,"  replied  her  daugh 
ter,  truthfully. 

"  Then  why  were  not  you  here  to  say  good-bye 
to  Mr.  What's-his-name  ?  He  must  have  thought 
it  odd." 

"  I  don't  believe  my  absence  distressed  him  very 
much,"  said  Myra. 

"  At  least  he  was  polite  enough  to  notice  it," 
rejoined  her  mother.  "  He  said  some  very  pleasant 
things  of  you — that  you  were  well-informed,  or 
some  double  word  like  that." 

"  Dear  me !  "  sighed  Myra.  "  How  very  plain 
he  must  have  thought  me." 

"  Plain?    Why  should  you  think  so?  " 

"  Yes,  mother ;  the  degrees  of  unattractiveness  in 
a  girl  are :  Positive,  well-informed ;  comparative, 
well-meaning;  superlative,  good-hearted.  I  must 
be  only  positively  ugly." 

"Why,  Myra,"  Mrs.  Dale  protested;  "if  you 
would  only  take  more  trouble  with  your  hair  you 
would  be  quite  good-looking." 

"  I  don't  aspire  to  be  good-looking,  or  any  other 
[90] 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

double  word,"  Myra  replied,  disdainfully ;  and  the 
conversation  turned  to  the  proof,  arrived  that  day 
by  courtesy  of  Mr.  Ramsey. 

"  They  have  left  out  everything  I  thought 
good,"  declared  the  writer,  giving  the  offending 
sheets  a  vicious  slap.  "  It  is  bad  enough  to  twist 
my  story  to  suit  the  illustrations  they  have  on  hand, 
and  to  interlard  every  conversation  with  household 
recipes,  but  to  make  an  honoured  grandparent  die 
in  forty  words  is  more  than  one  can  bear  with 
patience." 

"  It's  murder,"  Myra  cried,  with  sympathy, 
"  premeditated  murder." 

"  I  suppose  their  wretched  cheque  is  in  that  blue 
envelope,"  went  on  Mrs.  Dale.  "  I  haven't  had  the 
heart  to  open  it." 

When  each  had  guessed  a  value  for  the  cheque 
far  lower  even  than  the  modest  probabilities,  the 
unsealing  of  the  blue  envelope  brought  all  the 
charm  of  unexpected  fortune. 

"  I  don't  know  when  we  have  been  so  rich,"  said 
Myra,  as  she  opened  the  family  Bible.  "  Remem 
ber,  mother,  I  have  put  it  in  the  Second  Book  of 
Kings." 

[911 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  As  it  is  so  much  better  than  we  thought,"  her 
mother  said,  with  rising  cheerfulness,  "  you  ought 
to  have  another  frock  at  once — some  soft,  clinging 
stuff  of  a  delicate  green." 

"  No,  mother ;  not  this  time,"  Myra  protested, 
stoutly.  "  This  cheque  must  be  distributed  in 
prizes  for  incivility  among  our  tradesmen.  First 
prize  to  Michael  Brady,  butcher,  for  gross  pro 
fanity  relating  to  the  purchase  of  a  turkey  upon 
the  instalment  plan.  Second  prize  to  Paul  and 
Peter  Shinn,  general  merchants,  for  reflections  on 
the  financial  standing  of  applicants  for  canned 
goods.  And  a  small  consolation  prize  to  Murray, 
the  fishman,  really  debarred  from  competition  by 
saying  there  was  no  hurry." 

"  I  suppose  you  are  right,"  sighed  Mrs.  Dale, 
turning  to  her  proof  once  more.  "  But  really  it 
does  seem  like  throwing  one's  work  away." 

Myra  took  a  seat  upon  the  trunk,  and  in  doing 
so  one  foot  mysteriously  disappeared. 

"  Has  Reggie  proposed  to  Laura  yet? "  she 
asked. 

"  Not  yet,"  her  mother  said,  dispiritedly.  "  I  had 
to  break  off  to  spill  ink  on  her  white  satin  dress,  just 
[921 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

to  show  how  the  stain  could  be  taken  out  with  Ex 
celsior  Eradicator,  though  when  I  tried  it  on  the 
lining  of  your  father's  hat  it  left  a  horrid  spot. 
And  then  I  had  to  make  a  Lincoln  pudding " 

"  I  don't  mind  so  much  spoiling  your  readers' 
clothes,"  commented  Myra,  "  but,  mother,  do  you 
think  it  right  to  introduce  fiction  into  their  digestive 
organs  ?  " 

The  mother  sniffed  disapproval  of  her  daugh 
ter's  levity,  and  with  a  pencil  substituted  "  pinch  " 
for  "  peck  "  as  the  quantity  of  cinnamon  in  the 
recipe  for  Lincoln  pudding.  And  Myra  went  on 
helpfully : 

"  Mother,  I  have  changed  my  opinion  concern 
ing  Reggie.  He  does  not  really  care  for  Laura. 
He  only  wants  to  make  her  think  he  does,  and  then 
go  away  and  never  come  back." 

"  Nonsense,"  rejoined  the  writer,  with  authority. 
"You  know  nothing  of  life.  If  a  man  admires  a 
girl  at  all  he  will  want  to  marry  her  as  long  as  she 
treats  him  badly.  It's  his  nature;  and  besides  I 
have  a  picture  of  a  christening  to  introduce." 

Here   further  discussion  was  prevented  by  the 
appearance  of  Professor  Dale  from  the  workshop. 
[93] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
He  held  a  lighted  candle  in  his  hand,  which,  paus 
ing  on  the  threshold,  he  raised  above  his  head  as 
though  unconscious  that  the  living-room  was  al 
ready  well  illuminated. 

"  Were  there  no  letters?  "  he  inquired,  dividing 
a  searching  and  suspicious  gaze  impartially  be 
tween  wife  and  child. 

"  Yes,  father,"  answered  Myra,  getting  to  her 
feet,  "  there  were  several  for  you.  I  thought  you 
were  tired  after  your  walk,  or  I  should  have  brought 
them  to  you." 

"  Do  so  now,"  he  commanded,  solemnly ;  and, 
turning,  went  back  into  the  workshop,  the  candle 
still  aloft. 

"  I  shall  stay  and  help  him,"  said  Myra,  in  a 
whisper,  as  she  took  the  letters  from  the  table. 
"  There  are  only  two  or  three,  so  I  shaVt  be  long." 

"  Oh,  I  do  wish  you  would  not  encourage  him," 
her  mother  sighed.  "  Why  can't  you  make  him 
give  it  up?  He  is  getting  dreamier  and  dreamier 
every  day,  and  I  don't  know  how  it  is  going  to 
end." 

"  Oh,  it  will  end  all  right,"  responded  Myra, 
hopefully.    "  Father  is  just  as  he  has  always  been, 
[94] 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

and  the  horoscopes  are  really  the  only  amusement 
he  has." 

"  I  don't  consider  it  a  nice  amusement  to  deceive 
people  and  take  their  money  for  doing  it,"  declared 
Mrs.  Dale,  with  spirit. 

"  But  he  does  not  take  their  money,"  Myra  as 
serted  ;  "  not  a  penny.  He  spends  it  all  in  adver 
tising." 

"  For  other  clients,"  put  in  Mrs.  Dale ;  but 
"  clients  "  was  not  the  word  she  would  have  liked 
to  use. 

"  And  every  one  of  them  will  get  excellent  ad 
vice,"  said  Myra,  stoutly,  "  worth  one  dollar  many 
times  over." 

It  was  an  argument  whose  give-and-take — now 
grown  perfunctory — had  lost  the  zest  of  unexpect 
edness,  like  a  game  played  too  often. 

"  Try  and  come  out  by  nine,"  said  Mrs.  Dale, 
returning  to  her  proof,  "  and  we  will  make  mock 
oysters  on  the  chafing-dish." 

The  Professor  in  his  arcanum  by  the  light  of  a 

single  candle  made  a  picture  to  persuade  one  that 

the  centuries  had  been  cut  in  twain.     About  the 

workshop,  little  larger  than  a  cell,  strange  mechan- 

1951 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
isms  cast  their  uncouth  shadows  on  the  walls — the 
infant  incubator,  the  whirlpool  washer,  the  collaps 
ible  circus-seat,  the  power  pump.  Between  these 
everywhere  were  books  and  bottles,  tools  and  test- 
tubes,  and  all  the  random  rubbish  that  the  inventive 
faculty  gathers  to  itself. 

Seated  at  a  table,  the  Professor  had  already  pre 
pared  himself  for  the  task  in  hand.  Blank  paper 
lay  before  him,  and  his  stubby  fingers  held  a  stubby 
pencil,  with  which  he  tapped  impatiently. 

Myra  laid  down  the  letters,  and  drew  up  a  soap 
box  for  herself. 

"Are  you  ready,  father?"  she  inquired,  duti 
fully. 

The  Professor  frowned  and  opened  a  memoran 
dum-book,  containing  pages  of  minute  calculations. 

"  I  have  been  revising  my  figures  for  the  con 
junction  of  Saturn  and  Uranus,"  he  announced, 
"  and  I  find  an  error  which  may  make  the  catas 
trophe  of  January  6th  some  hours  later  than  we 
have  expected.  It  is  as  well  that  I  discovered  this 
error  before  sending  my  results  to  Washington." 

"To  Washington?"   inquired  Myra.     "Why, 
father,  can  you  patent  catastrophes  ?  " 
[96] 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

"  No,"  answered  the  Professor,  still  preoccupied ; 
"  they  have  been  too  long  in  general  use.  I  simply 
wish  my  predictions  registered  at  the  Smithsonian 
under  seal." 

"  And  what  do  you  suppose  is  going  to  happen, 
father?  "  Myra  asked.  Some  years  earlier  con 
junctions  of  the  Great  Malefics  always  filled  her 
with  alarm.  Later  she  had  gained  a  certain  confi 
dence  in  the  ability  of  the  earth  to  resist  influences 
which  must  have  proved  disastrous  to  a  less  hardy 
planet. 

The  Professor  with  his  stubby  pencil  made  a 
figure  in  his  calculations  more  distinct. 

"  I  look  for  widespread  desolation  in  every  phase 
of  moral  and  physical  being,"  he  answered,  cheer 
fully,  as  he  closed  the  book,  and  added,  still  more 
cheerfully,  "  Now  to  business." 

There  were  other  horoscopes  to  be  cast  than  those 
which  the  mail  had  brought  that  day,  and  Myra, 
who  had  filed  the  applications  on  a  skewer,  removed 
the  lowermost. 

"  This  is  a  woman,"  she  announced.  "  Her  name 
is  Florence,  and  she  was  born  in  Boston  in  '75.  She 
asks  if  she  will  be  successful  in  her  present  under 
taking." 

197) 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Success !  "  repeated  the  astrologer.  "  That  is 
what  they  all  expect.  Success,  long  life,  and  happy 
marriages,  in  return  for  stupidity,  idleness,  and 
dishonesty.  Fools !  One  could  read  their  nativities 
in  their  empty  faces.  Retrograde  planets — Sol  be 
low  the  earth ;  a  waning  moon !  "  He  shook  his 
shaggy  inane  and  brought  his  fat,  blunt  fingers 
down  upon  the  table.  "  One  day,"  he  resumed, 
"  there  will  be  a  Court  of  Science  to  determine  by 
the  horoscope  whether  an  infant  shall  be  allowed  to 
live." 

"  How  cruel !  "  cried  Myra,  shivering  a  little  in 
spite  of  long  familiarity  with  the  idea. 

"  No  more  cruel  than  that  we  should  go  on  rear 
ing  bats  in  the  belief  that  they  may  turn  out  night 
ingales,"  replied  her  father,  solemnly,  though  he 
would  by  no  means  have  shortened  the  existence  of 
a  bat. 

The  Professor  now  drew  a  circle  with  his  stubby 
pencil,  using  the  cover  of  a  mustard-tin  for  a 
guide.  This  figure  he  divided  into  quadrants  by 
two  intersecting  lines,  and  these  again  into  thirds, 
until  the  diagram  resembled  a  twelve-spoked  wheel. 
Myra  meanwhile  followed  the  operation  with  close 
attention. 

[98] 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

It  was  the  old  enchantment,  the  old  hallucination 
of  the  Chaldi'un  magi,  the  belief  that  is  the  child 
of  strong  deshv ;  that,  as  the  planets  meet  and  pass 
and  range  themselves  in  square  and  trine,  they 
move  in  step  to  firmamental  harmonies,  whose  meas 
ure  all  things  tread ;  that,  having  seen  the  unknow 
able  above,  man  may  know  the  unseen  below. 

"  I  am  ready,"  said  the  Professor,  without  look 
ing  up,  and  Myra  read  the  day  and  date  and  hour 
of  Florence's  nativity. 

From  a  heap  of  tattered  almanacs  her  father 
took  that  current  at  the  birth  of  Florence,  and, 
after  some  simple  calculations,  he  said : 

"  She  is  a  Capricorn." 

"And  is  that  good  or  bad?"  inquired  Myra, 
folding  her  arms  upon  the  table. 

"  As  God  wills,"  answered  her  father,  seriously. 
"  The  sign  shows  only  if  the  clay  be  coarse  or  fine. 
We  do  not  stop  to  weigh  ingredients  too  nicely, 
knowing  that  for  every  ounce  touched  by  the  Mas 
ter  tons  will  be  scattered  en  the  highways.  The 
planets  are  the  fingers  of  Omnipotence." 

Though  the  Professor  said  much  more  he  was 
not  idle.  As  he  talked  he  added  hieroglyphics  to 
[991 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
his  diagram.  First,  the  zodiacal  signs,  one  at  the 
end  of  every  spoke,  till  the  drawing  might  have 
been  the  dial  of  a  strange  clock.  After  that  he 
scrawled  the  symbols  of  the  planets  here  and  there 
at  random  seemingly — the  shield  and  spear  of 
Mars,  the  crux  ansata  of  Venus,  the  sickle  of  Sat 
urn,  the  caduceus  of  Mercury,  and  last,  the 
dragon's  head  and  tail,  which  are  the  nodes  of  the 
moon.  When  he  had  finished  he  exclaimed : 

"  Poor  wretch !  She  will  never  know  happiness 
nor  ease  nor  peace.  She  will  pass  her  life  in  the 
service  of  others,  and  die  disgraced  before  the  age 
of  thirty.  Can  you  remember  that,  my  child?  " 

"  Yes,  father,"  Myra  answered ;  "  but  of  course 
we  could  not  write  her  that." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  the  Professor.  "  You 
may  write  that  she  has  an  unselfish  nature,  which 
finds  its  joy  in  ministering  to  the  wants  of  others. 
Say  that  her  life  will  be  one  of  activity,  rather  than 
of  change.  Caution  her  to  be  prudent  in  dealing 
with  the  opposite  sex,  and  add  that  she  has  a  scar 
or  blemish  on  her  face." 

"  But,  father,  shall  I  really  tell  her  that?"  in 
quired  Myra,  for  the  horoscopes  were  rarely  so  ex 
plicit  as  to  details. 

[100] 


CHAPTER     FIVE 
Again  the  Professor  consulted  his  diagram. 
"  Omit  the  scar,"  he  said.     "  I  see  now  that  it 
will  be  caused  in  the  future  by  a  hammer  or  some 
blunt  instrument.     Yes,  we  must  omit  the  scar." 

Following  Florence  came  the  nativity  of  a  gen 
tleman  who  spelled  birthday  with  an  "  e  "  and  Feb 
ruary  with  one  "  r."  As  his  aspirations  were 
toward  journalism  the  advice  to  follow  elementary 
studies  for  a  year  and  seven  months  was  worth  a 
dollar  fully. 

"  Here  is  another  woman,"  Myra  announced,  ap 
parently  continuing  to  take  the  applicants  in  order. 
"  Her  name  is  Mary  Doyle."  And  had  the  Pro 
fessor  ever  noticed  anything  he  would  have  seen  his 
daughter's  cheeks  grow  red. 

"  A  cook !  "  he  said,  in  comment ;  "  and  probably 
a  bad  one." 

"  I  am  almost  sure  she  is  not  a  cook,"  protested 
Myra.  "  She  was  only  twenty  on  her  last  birthday, 
and  her  writing  is  not  so  very  bad." 

"  How  is  her  spelling?  "  asked  the  scientist,  as 
he  found  the  proper  almanac. 

"  Perfect,"  Myra  answered,  with  a  touch  of  in 
dignation. 

[101] 


^  ft  •  Y  R  A     OF     THE     PINES 

"  She  is  a  daughter  of  Taurus,"  muttered  the 
Professor,  turning  over  leaves. 

"  And  what  are  the  characteristics  of  Taurus  ?  " 
Myra  asked. 

"  Obstinacy,  impulsiveness,  and  self-will,"  re 
counted  her  father,  recalling  his  authorities. 
"  Adapted  for  city  rather  than  for  country  life, 
hospitable,  but,  with  bad  aspects,  over-fond  of 
pleasure.  Ptolemy  gives  patience,  but  I  should  say 
a  roving  disposition." 

"  I  don't  believe  she  is  very  patient,"  suggested 
Myra  ;  adding,  hastily  :  "  So  few  girls  are.  What 
does  she  look  like?  " 

"  She  evidently  interests  you,"  her  father  re 
marked  ;  "  but  a  woman's  personal  appearance  has 
a  certain  bearing  on  her  destiny.  The  females  of 
Taurus  are  commonly  plump,"  he  continued,  using 
the  brusque  language  of  the  masters ;  "  the  eyes  are 
dark  and  far  apart.  The  hair  is  often  tufted  on 
the  forehead,  and  should  no  planet  aspect  the  as 
cendant,  is  often  red  in  hue.  The  mouth  is  wide, 
the  complexion  clear  and  inclined  to  high  colour, 
and,  unless  Mercury  be  well  placed,  the  expression 
will  suggest  a  bull." 

f  102  1 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

"  Do  look  where  Mercury  is !  "  cried  Myra,  in 
alarm;  and  as  her  father's  stubby  pencil  scrawled 
the  symbols  of  the  planets  she  watched  the  process 
narrowly.  Fortunately,  Mercury  was  not  ill- 
placed,  and  rather  strong,  which  gives  intelligence, 
and  Venus,  lady  of  the  ascendant,  was  powerful. 

"  A  pleasing  personality,"  astrology  proclaimed 
her;  "  in  fact,  decidedly  good-looking." 

"  And  not  the  least  bit  like  a  bull,"  insisted 
Myra. 

"  In  this  case,"  the  Professor  assured  her,  "  such 
a  suggestion  would  be  wholly  absent." 

Myra  breathed  a  sigh  of  evident  relief. 
"  Father,  are  the  Taurus  people  very  deceitful  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  No,  child,"  he  answered ;  "if  true  to  their  in 
heritance  they  are  the  princes  of  the  zodiac." 
Leaning  back  in  his  chair,  he  raised  his  eyes  to  the 
pine  ceiling  of  his  lean-to  laboratory,  and  spoke  as 
though  he  read  strange  writings  there.  "  At  the 
moment  when  the  Almighty  breathed  into  Adam  the 
breath  of  life  Taurus,  the  Bull,  entered  the  great 
furrow  of  the  heavens,  signifying  that  those  who 
bear  the  yoke  by  strength  shall  master.  For  how 
f  1031 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
long,  for  how  many  untold  ages  he  led  the  zodiac, 
we  do  not  know.  Nor  can  we  tell  how  the  more 
crafty  Aries,  the  wandering  ram,  the  dodger,  the 
explorer,  came  to  usurp  his  place.  It  is  enough 
that,  following  the  same  law  of  retrogression,  we 
see  far  in  the  future  the  reign  of  Pisces  dawning — 
the  age  of  quiet  rivers,  of  peace  and  beauty,  and 
thoughts  that  float  in  astral  light.  The  bull  was 
of  the  triplicity  of  earth,  the  ram  is  of  fire,  the 
fishes  shall  be  of  water." 

The  astrologer's  deep  voice  vibrated  in  the  nar 
row  room  like  a  bell.  His  words,  whether  meaning 
less  or  full  of  meaning,  seemed  to  reveal  the  vast 
unwritten  secrets  of  the  cabala. 

"  This  is  the  significance  of  Taurus,"  he  went 
on.  "  The  equilibrium  of  will  and  mind ;  the  bal 
ance  of  power  and  obedience;  the  universal  soul; 
the  universal  life.  His  astral  colour  is  red — tawny 
red,  like  the  hide  of  a  bull,  like  the  hair  of  Adam. 
His  jewel  is  the  emerald,  emblem  of  fecundity  and 
of  growing  things.  His  month  is  April,  the  time 
of  planting.  His  tarot  is  the  lovers.  His  hiero 
glyphic  is  the  eye  of  God." 

To    Myra,    conscious    of    unworthiness,    thif 
[104] 


CHAPTER     FIVE 

sounded  like  a  prophecy  of  evil,  a  judgment  on 
herself, 

"  Father !  "  she  cried,  "  please  don't  tell  me  any 
more.  I  wanted  only  to  hear  of  the  lucky  days  you 
sometimes  give  people,  and  whether  they  are  likely 
to  travel,  and  so  on." 

The  Professor  laughed  unmirthfully. 

"  True,"  he  said,  "  and  Mary  Doyle  has  no  doubt 
been  forsaken  by  her  lover.  Let  us  see  if  he  will 
come  back  to  her." 

"Father,"  Myra  confessed,  boldly,  "I  am  Mary 
Doyle.  That  is  my  horoscope,  and  I  meant  to  de 
ceive  you  into  telling  me  about  myself."  The  Pro 
fessor  received  this  information  as  a  wise  judge 
hears  a  bit  of  unsupported  evidence;  and,  taking 
up  the  diagram,  he  studied  it  attentively  for  a 
moment  before  announcing  judgment. 

"  No,"  he  said,  finally,  "  it  is  a  far  cry  between 
the  impulse  and  the  act,  the  desire  and  the  deed. 
This  figure  shows  you  quite  incapable  of  deceit. 
Your  actions  may  be  ill-advised,  but  never  mean." 

"  I  made  a  horoscope  once  for  myself,  but  I  was 
not  at  all  certain  how  to  read  it,"  she  went  on,  in 
the  fervour  of  confession. 

f  105  ] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
"Naturally,"    assented    the    Professor,    adding, 

amiably :  "  Some  day  when  you  are  old  enough  I 

will  explain  it  to  you." 

"  But,    father,    I    am   twenty    now,"    protested 

Myra. 

"  An  age  of  folly,"  replied  the  Professor.    "  Go, 

child,  you  waste  my  time." 


[106] 


CHAPTER  SIX 


CHAPTER  VI 

FOR  several  weeks  life  at  the  cross-roads  went 
by  unmarked  in  its  passing  as  the  shadows 
of  the  pine-trees.  Once  Murray,  the  fish- 
man,  returning  from  Thebes  along  the  Ocean 
Road,  announced  that  there  were  no  letters,  and 
was  naturally  suspected  of  having  forgotten  to  call 
at  the  post-office.  Once  one  of  Mr.  Ramsey's  men, 
who  rode  over  on  a  mule  to  offer  unwilling  service 
in  the  matter  of  chores,  brought  a  note  from  his 
employer  addressed  to  "  Professor  Dale  and  Fam 
ily."  The  necessities  of  the  cranberry  bog  would, 
it  seemed,  prevent  Mr.  Ramsey's  visiting  Pineopolis 
for  several  days.  Once  the  Professor,  discovering 
the  bones  of  a  prehistoric  animal  near  his  mineral 
spring,  spent  the  afternoon  in  excavations ;  but  as 
he  did  not  allude  to  the  subject  in  the  evening,  his 
family  thought  it  best  not  to  do  so. 

But  the  cross-roads  were  not  all  the  pinelands, 
and  Myra  had  made  a  discovery  of  her  own. 
f  1091 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
This  happened  on  the  day  that  followed  the  visit 
of  Mr.  Ramsey  and  the  gentleman  from  Sweden. 
Myra  had  gone,  as  was  her  daily  custom,  to  the 
charcoal  pit,  and  there  had  spent  an  active  half- 
hour.  At  the  end  a  bottle  had  been  buried  with  a 
china  cup  beside  it,  and  the  knoll  beneath  the  birch- 
trees  swept  as  free  from  signs  of  former  revelry  as 
a  broom  of  pine-twigs  can  sweep.  One  token  only 
could  not  well  be  done  away  with — a  silver  cup 
dropped  and  forgotten.  But  this  was  not  the  dis 
covery. 

The  Professor's  family,  after  a  month  in  Pine- 
opolis,  could  repeat  from  memory  a  list  of  those 
who  during  that  time  had  passed  along  the  roads. 
The  agent  had  spoken  of  a  house  a  mile  or  more 
from  the  cross-roads,  whose  owner  he  suspected  of  a 
lack  of  reverence  in  the  matter  of  landmarks ;  but 
the  man  was  of  the  pariah  caste  of  "  pinelander," 
and  it  seemed  improbable  that  the  distance  between 
the  neighbours  would  ever  be  lessened.  Therefore 
it  was  with  a  start  that  Myra,  resting  by  the  pool, 
looked  up  to  find  the  gaze  of  two  other  pairs  of  eyes 
fixed  wonderingly  upon  her. 

These  eyes,  belonging  to  two  ragged  children, 

[iiol 


CHAPTER     SIX 

were  set  in  faces  dirty  to  the  last  degree  attainable 
by  childhood.  Above  them  shocks  of  tangled,  un 
kempt  hair  suggested  in  colour  nothing  so  much  as 
the  tail  and  mane  of  Mr.  Ramsey's  horse. 

"  Goodness !  "  exclaimed  Myra.  "  Where  under 
the  sun  did  you  come  from?  " 

At  this  the  taller  of  the  couple  gave  vent  to  an 
inarticulate  grunt ;  an  evident  desire  for  flight  was 
held  only  by  the  single  strand  of  curiosity.  To 
other  questions  he — the  creature's  sex  was  most 
imperfectly  expressed  in  rags — replied  with  like 
civility,  and  only  after  some  time  did  he  confess  to 
the  name  of  Aleck. 

"Aleck  what?"  asked  Myra.  "What  is  your 
other  name  ?  " 

"  Nawthin',"  drawled  the  boy,  balancing  him 
self  on  one  grimy  foot,  while  with  the  toes  of  the 
other  he  scratched  a  grimy  calf. 

"  Is  that  your  little  brother?  "  Myra  asked,  in 
tones  of  friendly  interest. 

"  Naw,"  drawled  the  boy,  contemptuously. 
"  That's  me  sister." 

"  And  what's  her  name?  " 

"  Sis." 

[Ill] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"What  are  you  and  Sis  doing  here?" 

"  NawthinV 

At  that  moment  a  frog  who  had  been  eaves 
dropping  lost  interest  and  leaped  into  the  water 
with  a  splash,  and  at  the  sound  the  younger  child, 
glancing  cunningly  in  the  direction  of  the  pool, 
twitched  her  brother's  sleeve.  It  was  almost  the 
first  sign  that  either  had  given  of  consciousness  of 
things  about  them,  and  Myra,  recognising  in  the 
girl  a  higher  intelligence,  said  to  her: 

"  Are  you  looking  for  anything?  " 
.  "  Frawgs,"  she  replied,  impassively. 

"  Oh,  you  are  looking  for  frogs !  What  do  you 
want  of  them  ?  " 

"  Nawthin',"  said  the  boy. 

"  Kill  'urn,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ?    Do  you  eat  them  ?  " 

"  Naw !  "  answered  both  at  once,  in  evident  dis 
gust. 

"  Now,  children,"  said  Myra,  firmly,"  I  want  you 
to  understand  you  are  not  to  touch  that  frog.  He 
is  mine.  He  belongs  to  Myra  Dale,  and  if  you 
harm  in  any  way,  or  even  tease  him,  I  will  punish 
you.  I  am  a  powerful  fairy,  and  if  you  are  good 

I  can  give  you  lots  of  pretty  things." 
[1121 


CHAPTER     SIX 

Had  her  hearers  been  afflicted  with  total  deafness 
neither  threat  nor  promise  could  have  been  received 
with  fewer  outward  signs  of  comprehension.  So 
she  asked  again: 

"  Do  you  know  what  a  fairy  is?  " 

"  Naw,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  What,  never  heard  of  a  fairy?  Have  you  ever 
heard  of  New  York?" 

"  Naw." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  heaven  ?  "  The  se 
quence  was  imperfect,  but  the  voice  was  kind. 

"  Naw." 

"  Have  you  ever  heard  of  God  ?  " 

"  Naw,"  from  the  boy. 

"  Yes,"  from  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  Sis  has  heard !  "  persisted  Myra,  much  en 
couraged.  "  Tell  me,  child,  who  is  God  ?  " 

"  His  last  name's  Dam,"  faltered  the  child, 
snuffling. 

Myra  eyed  the  small  speaker  narrowly,  uncer 
tain  whether  to  attribute  the  reply  to  infantile 
wickedness  or  to  unimaginable  ignorance.  In 
either  case  she  felt  the  moment  ill-adapted  to  re 
proof,  and  her  heart  softened  toward  the  waif  of 
f  1131 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
the  pineland  with  the  pity  of  the  weak  for  the 
weaker,  of  the  poor  for  the  poorer,  of  those  who 
have  little  to  give  for  those  who  have  everything  to 
ask.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  the  child,  and,  the 
overture  meeting  with  no  response,  displayed  the 
contents  of  her  work-bag,  which — being  of  the 
household  of  Dale — contained  attractions  not  usual 
in  work-bags.  Thus  she  was  able  to  exhibit,  in 
addition  to  an  exceptionally  varied  array  of  spools, 
four  lumps  of  sugar,  a  fruit-knife,  and  a  chenille 
monkey  of  the  brilliant  colouring  common  to  his 
species. 

Gradually  the  little  girl  crept  nearer,  and  the 
boy,  with  greater  caution,  followed,  till  both, 
breathing  audibly,  they  came  so  close  that  their 
brown  toes,  twitching  like  nervous  fingers,  scattered 
the  brown  needles  upon  her  dress.  Seemingly  un 
conscious  of  their  movements,  as  is  the  fakir  who 
plays  a  pipe  to  the  slow  uncoiling  of  an  infatuated 
cobra,  the  charmer  continued  her  wiles,  which, 
after  several  minutes,  were  rewarded  by  a  grunt  of 
recognition.  The  direct  provocation  of  the  sound 
was  a  statement  concerning  the  tastes  and  habits 
of  the  ape ;  and,  greatly  encouraged,  the  exhibitor 
went  on: 

[114] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

"  Yes,  indeed,  he  eats  sugar,  and  sleeps  in  the 
needle-book." 

"Huh!"  ejaculated  Sis,  sceptically. 
"  Arrah,  yer  lie !  "  protested  Aleck,  but  not  un 
civilly. 

After  this  confidence  grew  rapidly,  and  soon  the 
children,  squatting  on  the  ground,  spoke  as  freely 
as  a  limited  vocabulary  and  little  practice  in  the 
art  of  conversation  would  permit.  In  response  to 
innumerable  questions  it  appeared  that  there  was  a 
house  somewhere  in  the  forest  inhabited  by  a  man 
who  kept  a  great  many  pigs.  The  man  was 
"  Dad,"  and  a  woman  who  figured  vaguely  in  the 
narrative  was  "  Mam."  Most  of  the  questions  had 
to  be  repeated  in  simpler  language,  and  it  soon  be 
came  apparent  that  such  words  as  "  father," 
"  mother,"  and  "  home  "  conveyed  but  a  dim  mean 
ing  to  the  children.  They  did  not  know  if  they 
loved  Dad  or  Mam  ;  they  did  not  know  if  they  liked 
the  lumps  of  sugar,  and  the  one  emotion  they  dis 
played  was  that  of  fear  of  the  pigs.  Of  these  ani- 
mals  the  children  appeared  to  live  in  terror,  and 
they  spoke  of  them  only  after  much  persuasion, 
and  then  with  lowered  voices.  Pressed  for  a  reason, 
[  1151 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
the  girl  was  silent,  but  the  boy,  after  glancing  be 
hind  him,  whispered  that  the  pigs  had  once  eaten 
a  kid;  and  no  cross-examination  could  shake  this 
statement. 

"  But  you  don't  mean  a  child?  "  argued  Myra, 
to  whom  the  matter  seemed  but  a  delusion  of  the 
little,  undeveloped  brain.  "  That  would  be  impos 
sible." 

"  I  say  they  did,"  insisted  the  boy,  sullenly,  and 
the  girl  nodded  her  head. 

"  But  pigs  do  not  eat  people ;  they  eat — " 
Myra  paused  to  recall  information  on  the  subject — 
"  they  eat  vegetables." 

"  They  eats  bosses,"  growled  the  boy,  savagely. 

"  Indeed,  they  do  not,"  protested  Myra,  warmly. 

"  How'n  hell  d'you  know;  you  ain't  seen  'em?  " 
broke  out  the  boy.  "They'd  eat  Dad!  they'd  eat 
Mam  ;  they'd  eat  me,  and  Sis ;  they'd  eat  the  hull 
damned  lot  of  us !  " 

At  this  the  girl  began  to  cry  silently,  her  whole 
dirty  little  body  shaken  with  curious  inward  sobs. 
Myra  laid  her  hand  gently  upon  the  tangled  mass 
of  sun-bleached  hair,  but  the  child  shrank  from  her 
in  terror,  and  it  was  plain  that  she  did  not  know 

the  meaning  of  a  caress. 

f  1161 


CHAPTER     SIX 

"  Can't  you  do  something  to  quiet  her?  "  asked 
Myra,  appealing  to  the  boy.  Aleck  hesitated  a 
moment,  and  then  reluctantly  slapped  his  sister  on 
the  cheek.  The  reluctance  made  the  action  seem 
less  brutal,  and  the  effect  of  the  blow  was  evidently 
soothing,  for  the  girl  stopped  crying,  although  her 
sobs  continued  at  lengthening  intervals  for  several 
minutes.  The  conversation  now  turned  to  the  effect 
of  brambles  upon  the  human  leg,  and  then  to  other 
subjects  of  general  interest,  until  the  sound  of  a 
saw-mill  whistle,  sometimes  audible  with  a  favour 
able  wind,  announced  the  hour  of  mid-day. 

"  Now,  children,"  said  Myra,  gathering  her  be 
longings  together,  "  come  with  me  to  my  house,  and 
I  will  show  you  lots  of  pretty  things,  and  give  you 
something  to  eat." 

But  once  upon  their  feet  the  children  were  again 
the  timid,  half-wild  creatures  whose  curiosity  had 
for  a  moment  conquered  fear.  Before  the  invita 
tion  could  be  repeated  they  had  backed  stealthily 
from  her,  and,  wheeling  suddenly,  fled  like  fright 
ened  pine-mice  into'  the  forest. 

Myra  reserved  the  story  of  her  meeting  with  the 
children  until  some  time  when  her  mother  might  be 
[117] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
in  the  mood  to  hear  it;  as  for  the  Professor,  she 
knew  it  would  not  interest  him,  for  had  she  en 
countered  a  caravan  of  camels  in  the  pines,  the  cir 
cumstance  would  but  have  served  as  text  for  a 
discourse  upon  Mahometanism.  At  dinner,  how 
ever,  she  asked,  generally: 

"  Pigs  have  never  been  known  to  eat  human 
beings,  have  they  ?  " 

;  Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Dale,  seeing  nothing 
unusual  in  this  or  any  other  question.  "  I  remember 
when  I  was  a  girl  hearing  about  an  old  man  in  the 
town  we  lived  in  who  became  intoxicated  and  fell 
asleep  in  a  pen." 

She  did  not  relate  the  sequel  of  her  story,  and 
her  daughter  did  not  ask  for  it.  Then  the  Pro 
fessor  spoke: 

"  There  was  a  woman  in  New  York  State  who 
killed  her  husband  and  then  fed  him  to  the  swine. 
I  made  every  effort  to  get  his  nativity.  It  would 
have  made  a  horoscope  of  the  greatest  interest. 
There  must  have  been  a  conjunction  of  evil  planets 
in  the  twelfth  house,  which  rules  both  enemies  and 
four-footed  beasts." 

The  Professor  went  on  to  explain  the  planetary 
["8] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

influences  which,  with  the  co-operation  of  the  jury, 
brought  about  the  hanging  of  the  unnatural  wife, 
and  Mrs.  Dale  considered  the  second  couplet  of  a 
tragic  poem,  the  first  of  which  had  come  by 
inspiration : 

••  Mother,  the  swine  are  at  the  door  ! 
Mother,  will  father  come  no  more  ?  " 

When  Myra,  declaring  that  she  was  not  hungry, 
went  out  and  sat  upon  the  kitchen  step,  she  would 
have  given  much  to  have  heard  Mr.  Ramsey  tell 
of  cranberry  bogs  and  dams  and  sluices  and  good, 
honest  muck.  Her  father's  pitiless  planets  made 
her  sick  at  heart,  and  the  unreal  world  of  her 
mother's  fancy  encompassed  her  with  a  horde  of 
vapoury  elementals  moving  in  mockery  of  life. 
The  thought  of  the  children  was  a  nightmare,  and 
when  she  took  from  her  pocket  the  silver  cup  it 
seemed  as  though  she  had  received  it  in  a  dream, 
and  waked  to  find  it  in  her  hand. 

After  this,  when  Myra  reached  the  pit,  if  she  did 
not  find  Aleck  and  Sis  hiding  in  the  bushes,  the 
children  were  sure  to  appear  as  the  shadows  short 
ened.  She  set  herself  the  task  of  civilising  the 
[1191 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
young  savages;  and,  inspired  by  the  new  interest, 
went  about  its  accomplishment  with  a  zeal  that 
sometimes  resulted  in  their  sudden  flight.  But, 
unable  to  resist  the  fascination  of  being  objects  of 
attention,  they  commonly  returned,  to  lurk  upon 
the  edges  of  the  clearing,  and  make  known  their 
presence  by  uncouth  yells. 

One  morning,  after  several  meetings  had  taken 
place,  Myra's  face  wore  an  expression  of  unusual 
determination  as  she  entered  the  forest,  and  beneath 
her  arm  she  carried  a  bundle  containing  a  copy  of 
"  JEsop's  Fables,"  a  towel,  and  a  piece  of  yellow 
soap.  She  found  Sis  sitting  placidly  under  a  tree 
beside  the  pool,  while  the  head  of  Aleck,  protruding 
from  a  hole  in  the  cabin  roof,  emitted  sounds  in 
imitation  of  an  owl. 

"  How  often  have  I  told  you  not  to  shout?  "  she 
said,  sternly,  as  she  passed  the  hut.  "  Now  go  to 
work  and  clean  out  all  this  rubbish,  so  that  you  can 
have  a  house  to  play  in.  Try  to  see  how  tidy  you 
can  make  it." 

"  How'n  hell —  "  began  the  boy,  but  Myra  in 
terrupted,  warningly. 

"  If  you  say  such  words  I  will  not  let  you  come 
[120] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

here  any  more;  no,  nor  within  a  mile  of  anywhere 
I  am." 

Later  there  was  a  light  refection,  consisting  of 
cookies,  which  had  not  turned  out  as  well  as  had 
been  hoped,  and  Aleck  inscribed  with  charcoal  upon 
a  board  as  much  of  the  alphabet  as  he  could  at  the 
moment  recall,  which  proved  to  be  little.  So  the 
morning,  marred  only  by  a  painful  episode  con 
nected  with  the  application  of  the  yellow  soap  to 
hands  and  faces,  ended  pleasantly  with  the  fable 
of  "  The  Wolf  and  the  Crane." 

Myra  was  curious  to  see  what  impression  the 
fancies  of  JSsop  made  upon  the  minds  of  her  lis 
teners,  for,  though  they  were  received  with  close 
attention,  the  faces  gave  no  hint  of  what  was 
passing  in  their  minds,  neither  was  any  comment 
made  upon  the  text  until  Aleck  interrupted  sud 
denly  to  ask : 

"  Say,  does  critters  talk?  " 

"  Not  really,"  explained  Myra ;  "  only  in 
stories." 

"Does  hogs  talk?" 

"  Sometimes — in  books,"  Myra  admitted,  appre 
hensively. 

f!2l] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Wot  does  they  say?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  remember,"  said  Myra,  puzzled  for 
an  answer.  "  People  don't  often  write  about  pigs ; 
they  are  such  stupid  animals — not  intelligent  like 
foxes  and  wolves." 

"  Arrah,  yer  kiddin',"  persisted  the  boy,  dog 
gedly.  "  Yer  knows  what  they  says." 

Myra,  to  put  an  end  to  the  discussion,  closed  the 
book,  and  the  boy  relapsed  into  silence ;  but  she  was 
conscious  that  he  watched  her  slyly,  suspecting  her 
of  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  brute  creation 
meanly  withheld.  After  this  she  left  JEsop  at 
home,  and  related  the  story  of  Whittington  and  his 
cat  from  memory ;  but  with  one  accord  the  children 
asked  for  a  return  to  the  "  critters,"  preferring 
always  fables  she  had  read  them  before  to  new 
ones. 

Once  Myra  and  her  companions  took  refuge  in 
the  hut  from  a  shower,  but  owing  to  the  condition 
of  the  roof  it  proved  an  indifferent  shelter.  The 
next  morning  she  found  Aleck  hard  at  work  to 
remedy  the  defect  by  skilfully  weaving  branches 
and  twigs  together,  and  filling  the  interstices  with 
marl  brought  from  the  pool.  In  the  operation  the 
[122] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

boy  displayed  the  intuitive  ingenuity  of  a  beaver. 
Gradually  Myra's  interest  in  the  renovation  be 
came  active,  and  on  the  second  day  she  stood  on 
the  ground  handing  up  materials  for  the  work, 
while  Sis  ran  among  the  trees  collecting  small,  in 
effectual  armfuls  of  further  supplies.  When,  upon 
some  small  mishap,  the  three  for  the  first  time 
laughed  together,  Myra  felt  the  work  of  civilisation 
simplified.  Too  much  of  a  child  herself  not  to 
enjoy  the  play,  if  accounts  had  been  balanced,  it 
was  far  from  certain  that  the  missionary  would  not 
have  been  found  the  debtor  for  benefits  received. 
She  had  not  forgotten  which  trees  marked  the 
burial-place  of  the  sauterne  bottle,  and  sometimes 
in  the  night  the  restoration  of  the  silver  cup  to  its 
lawful  owner  occupied  her  thoughts ;  but  at  the  pit 
the  voices  of  the  children  had  drowned  the  message 
of  the  pines. 

The  repairing  of  the  cabin,  and  its  interior  deco 
ration  with  Christmas  cards,  supplements  to  the 
Inglenook,  and  other  objects  of  art  was  not  the 
work  of  one  week  or  of  two  ;  and  meanwhile,  matters 
at  the  cranberry  bog  becoming  less  pressing,  Mr. 
Ramsey  came  as  of  old  to  the  cross-roads,  bringing 
[123] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
gifts  and  tribute — "  in  case  the  butcher  had  for 
gotten."  Of  these  Myra  kept  strict  account  in 
picture-writing  on  the  end  of  the  kitchen  dresser, 
using  the  sign  Taurus  to  indicate  a  steak,  and 
Pisces  to  record  the  advent  of  a  bass.  To  her 
mother  she  explained  the  hieroglyphics  as  Mr. 
Ramsey's  horoscope. 

"  Dear  me !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale.  "  What  does  it 
say?" 

"  It  foretells,"  replied  Myra,  gravely,  "  that 
when  the  procession  of  the  zodiac  shall  have  reached 
the  cusp  of  the  lower  shelf,  an  event  of  interest  will 
undoubtedly  take  place  in  his  life." 

"  Will  it  be  for  good  or  evil?  " 

"  That,"  said  the  seer,  "  it  is  impossible  at 
present  to  determine." 

This  conversation  took  place  while  Myra  occu 
pied  her  usual  seat  upon  the  kitchen  step  and  her 
mother,  at  a  table  behind  her,  stirred  something  in 
a  bowl  with  a  large  iron  spoon.  It  formed  part  of 
a  desultory  dialogue  covering  a  wide  range  of  sub 
jects,  but  there  was  a  family  tendency  to  introduce 
topics  of  moment  when  least  expected,  and  Myra 
was  not  surprised  to  hear  her  mother  say : 
[  124  1 


CHAPTER     SIX 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something  very  important." 

"  Really,  mother?     How  very  delightful!  " 

"  Well  " — mysteriously — "  this  morning  before 
you  came  in  from  your  kindergarten,  Mr.  Ramsey 
had  a  long  talk  with  your  father." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Myra,  indifferently,  but  blush 
ing  very  red.  "  And  what  did  Mr.  Ramsey  say?  " 

"  How  should  I  know?  "  demanded  her  mother. 
"  The  door  of  the  workshop  was  shut,  and  I  could 
not  hear  a  word." 

"  Then  what  makes  you  think  it  was  impor 
tant?" 

"  Because  " — conclusively — "  they  shook  hands 
when  they  came  out,  just  as  if  they  had  come  to  a 
conclusion  about  something." 

"  But  I  see  nothing  in  father  shaking  hands  with 
anyone  whom  he  pleases,"  protested  Myra.  "  How 
do  we  know  it  was  not  about  the  spring  or  the 
primeval  remains?  I  don't  consider  it  at  all  sur 
prising." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  right,"  assented  Mrs.  Dale, 
with  aggravating  readiness,  "  and  I  am  wrong,  and 
it  was  not  what  I  thought." 

"  I  am  sure  I  can't  see  why  one  should  think  any- 
[125] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
thing  at  all,"  said  Myra.    "  What  are  you  mixing 
in  that  bowl?" 

"  General  Sheridan's  Favourite  Flap- Jacks ; 
but  they  ought  to  be  cooked  at  once,  and  I  have 
forgotten  to  make  a  fire." 

Myra  sprang  up,  and,  hastily  thrusting  several 
handf uls  of  twigs  and  fat  pine-chips  into  the  stove, 
set  the  mass  alight.  "  Keep  on  stirring,  mother," 
she  said,  encouragingly.  "  It  won't  be  a  minute 
before  the  griddle  is  red-hot." 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  mother,  sadly ;  "  but  I  in 
tended  them  for  tea,  and  it  is  scarcely  four  o'clock." 

"  Never  mind,  we  will  have  tea  a  little  early ; 
father  never  knows  what  time  it  is." 

During  the  next  five  minutes  mother  and  daugh 
ter  gave  undivided  attention  to  the  griddle.  Then 
Mrs.  Dale  remarked: 

"  I  wonder  what  kind  of  man  you  will  marry, 
Myra?" 

"  He  must  be  one,"  announced  the  daughter,  "  in 
whose  judgment  I  have  implicit  faith;  and  as  I 
could  never  respect  the  judgment  of  a  person  who 
wanted  to  marry  me — "  Leaving  the  sentence  un 
finished,  she  turned  a  cake. 
[126] 


CHAPTER     SIX 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Dale,  when  she  had  re 
volved  the  proposition  in  her  mind.  "  Then  I  don't 
see  what  you  are  going  to  do.  I  wonder  if  Sheri 
dan  really  ate  such  queer-looking  things  ?  " 

"  The  General  was  a  brave  man,"  said  Myra. 
•'Shall  I  call  father?" 


[1*7] 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  on  the  following  morning,  and  at  the 
breakfast-table,  that  Professor  Dale  surprised 
his  family  by  announcing  that  he  intended  to 
visit  Thebes.     In  the  same  breath  he  demanded  a 
certain  necktie  of  black  satin  whose  very  existence 
had  become  legendary. 

"  What  time  do  you  go?  "  inquired  his  wife,  as 
though  a  trolley  passed  the  door  at  frequent  in 
tervals. 

"  How  are  you  going  ?"  asked  his  daughter,  more 
to  the  purpose. 

"  At  nine  o'clock,  in  Mr.  Ramsey's  buggy,"  he 
replied,  answering  both  together. 

An  appointment  with  the  owner  of  the  buggy 
being  evident,  the  others  husbanded  their  questions, 
knowing  that  the  number  answered  would  in  no  case 
be  great. 

"  But  how  will  you  come  back  ?  The  horse  cannot 
[131] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
make  the  trip  twice  in  one  day."    Mrs.  Dale  looked 
for   approval    to   her    daughter,    who   nodded    as 
though  to  say,  "  That  was  a  good  one." 

"  Of  course  I  shall  not  return  to-night,"  replied 
the  Professor,  annoyed  at  the  folly  of  the  question. 
"  I  shall  put  up  at  the  Union  House,  and  come  back 
to-morrow." 

"  Indeed !  "  returned  his  wife.  "  And  we  shall 
be  quite  safe  here,  no  doubt,  with  no  one  to  protect 
us?" 

"  Do  you  consider  Mr.  Ramsey  nobody?  "  asked 
the  Professor,  in  an  injured  voice. 

"  Mr.  Ramsey !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale  and  her  daugh 
ter  in  a  breath. 

"  Certainly !  I  should  not  leave  you  unprotected, 
and  he  has  kindly  consented  to  pass  the  night  here. 
The  collapsible  circus-seat  will  make  an  excellent 
bed.  He  assures  me  that  several  matters  in  this  part 
of  the  property  can  occupy  him  profitably  until  I 
return  with  the  buggy." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  in  Thebes  ?  "  asked 
Mrs.  Dale,  in  spite  of  cautionary  signals  from  her 
daughter,  who  saw  in  the  question  the  end  of  in 
terrogatory.  The  Professor  did  not  answer,  but, 

continuing,  said: 

[132] 


CHAPTER    SEVEN 

"  You  must  be  careful  that  Mr.  Ramsey's  repasts 
are  punctual,  as  he  is  a  man  of  methodical  habits." 

"  It  will  be  his  own  fault  if  they  are  a  minute 
late,"  replied  Myra,  significantly,  recalling  their 
prospective  guest's  accomplishments. 

"  Quite  right,"  her  father  assented,  nodding  his 
approval.  "  And,  my  child,  it  might  be  well  to  be 
a  trifle  more  serious  in  speaking  with  Mr.  Ramsey. 
He  is  a  somewhat  matter-of-fact  person,  and  at 
times  I  fancy  your — shall  I  say  vivacity? — dis 
tresses  him." 

"  I  shall  not  say  a  word  to  the  little  beast !  " 
promised  the  vivacious  one,  heartily. 

"  That,"  remonstrated  Professor  Dale,  "  would 
be  to  err  in  the  other  direction.  I  am  sure  you  will 
be  courteous  to  our  friend,  to  whom  we  owe  so 
much." 

"  Father,"  Myra  retorted,  stoutly,  "  we  are  not 
under  obligations  to  him ;  and  if  Mr.  Ramsey  were 
not  as  stupid  as  an  owl  he  would  make  his  company 
give  you  a  large  salary  for  living  here." 

"  Oh,  what  an  excellent  idea !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale. 
"  I  hope  you  will  speak  to  him  about  it." 

"  That  we  shall  see  to  when  the  proper  time 
[133] 


MYRA     OF    THE     PINES 
comes,"  replied  the  Professor,  to  whom  the  thought 
had  not  occurred  before. 

"  I  am  sure,"  continued  Mrs.  Dale,  "  the  way  you 
talked  to  that  Swedish  gentleman  about  cranberries 
was  worth  hundreds  of  dollars  to  the  company." 

"  Mr.  Ramsey  tells  me  the  projected  colony  has 
fallen  through,"  remarked  her  husband.  "  I  con 
fess  that  at  the  time  their  representative  did  not 
appear  to  me  sincere." 

"  Dear  me !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Dale.  "  So  he  has  re 
ported  unfavourably.  One  can  never  depend  upon 
people  who  are  too  polite." 

"  But  it  would  have  been  wrong  to  report  the 
property  as  suitable  if  he  did  not  think  so,"  Myra 
protested.  The  colony  had,  in  falling  through, 
merely  followed  the  natural  law  of  projects,  and 
presently  the  Professor  said: 

"  I  should  like  a  few  necessary  articles  packed." 

"  Of  course,"  assented  Mrs.  Dale.    "  What  in?  " 

"  Where  is  my  valise?  " 

"  I  think  you  cut  that  up  to  make  washers  for 
your  force-pump.  But  would  not  the  bread-canister 
do,  with  a  shawl-strap  around  it?  " 

"  Admirably,"  assented  her  husband ;  and  during 
\  1341 


CHAPTER     SEVEN 

the  preparations  for  his  comfort  he  improved  the 
tinu'  with  further  instructions  concerning  the  con 
duct  of  affairs  during  his  absence,  laying  greatest 
stress  on  matters  of  which  he  was  commonly  least 
observant.  When  the  appointed  hour  brought  the 
buggy  to  the  door  he  refused  to  consider  the  feel 
ings  of  the  pale  horse,  and,  seizing  the  reins  from 
Mr.  Ramsey,  immediately  drove  away. 

"  I  will  not  urge  a  willing  animal,"  he  remarked, 
over  his  shoulder,  "  and,  by  taking  his  own  gait,  he 
can  be  resting  and  going  at  the  same  time.  Do  not 
forget  to  feed  the  chickens.  I  shall  be  back  by  nine 
to-morrow." 

"  Mr.  Ramsey,"  said  Mrs.  Dale,  as  the  three 
stood  together  watching  the  vanishing  buggy,  "  did 
my  husband  mention  to  you  why  he  wished  to  go  to 
the  village?" 

"  Why,  not  exactly,"  faltered  the  agent ;  "  but 
I  guess  he  had  some  purchases  to  make." 

Which  theory  seemed  to  the  Professor's  relatives 
of  all  others  the  least  probable. 

"  I  happened  to  see  some   fancy  canned-goods 
down  at  Shinn's  I  thought  you  might  like  to  try," 
said  Mr.  Ramsey,  after  an  interval,  and  Myra  took 
[135] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
an  early  opportunity  to  inscribe  the  sign  Scorpio 
upon  the  kitchen  dresser  as  the  nearest  equivalent 
for  preserved  lobster, 

"  There  weren't  any  letters,"  he  was  saying  to 
her  mother  as  she  returned  to  the  living-room — 
"  just  this  package  for  Miss  Myra."  But,  meeting 
the  eye  of  the  consignee,  he  added,  quoting  from 
the  typewritten  address  of  a  small  parcel  in  his 
hand,  "  Miss  Myra  Dale." 

Myra  tore  away  the  wrappings  expecting  to 
uncover  some  such  trifle  as  she  occasionally  received 
from  former  school  friends ;  but  within  she  found  a 
box  bearing  the  legend — 

EGYPTIAN    CIGARETTES 

and  the  sub-title,  "  Beau  Sexe,"  together  with  char 
acters  of  the  language  of  Mahomet. 

"  Hello!  "  cried  Mr.  Ramsey,  jocularly,  suppos 
ing  himself  safely  wide  of  truth.  "  So  you've  taken 
to  cigarettes  ?  " 

"  What  a  nice  little  box !  "  remarked  Mrs.  Dale. 
"  What  do  you  suppose  is  in  it?  " 

"  Just  what  Mr.  Ramsey  has  so  cleverly 
guessed,"  returned  Myra,  examining  her  property. 
[  136  ] 


CHAPTER     SEVEN 

"  Oh,  I  was  only  fooling !  "  said  the  little  agent. 
"  Of  course  I  don't " 

"  Of  course  not,"  interrupted  Myra,  intuitively 
pulling  a  small  pink  string.  The  box  opened,  dis 
closing  a  layer  of  dainty  cylinders  imbedded  in 
paper  lace,  each  bearing  the  monogram,  "  M.  D." 

"  They  must  be  candy !  "  speculated  Mrs.  Dale. 
"  Who  could  have  sent  them  ?  " 

Saying  nothing,  Myra  took  a  match  from  a  china 
elephant,  who  upheld  his  huddah  full.  Her  eyes 
were  bright,  her  head  thrown  back  almost  defiant 
ly,  and  presently  Pineopolis  experienced  its  first 
scandal. 

"  How  can  you  ?  "  cried  her  mother,  shocked  be 
yond  expression. 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha ! "  laughed  Mr.  Ramsey,  nervous 
but  loyal. 

"  Throw  it  away  this  instant !  "  commanded  Mrs. 
Dale. 

But  Myra,  sitting  on  the  trunk,  puffed  cau 
tiously,  for  she  felt  her  reputation  for  depravity  at 
stake.  She  wondered  if  Mr.  Ramsey  would  appre 
ciate  a  ring  should  she  be  able  to  achieve  one,  and 
hoped  that  he  was  shocked.  She  speculated  as  to 
f  1371 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
how  long  it  would  take  her  mother  to  forget  the 
incident;  but,  as  an  aromatic  fragrance  filled  the 
room,  she  noticed  that  the  nostrils   of  that  lady 
dilated,  and  took  heart. 

"  Myra,"  said  Mrs.  Dale,  "  I  did  not  think  that 
I  should  live  to  see  a  daughter  of  mine  guilty  of 
such  an  action." 

"  Why,  mother,"  exclaimed  the  daughter,  in  sur 
prise,  flicking  the  ashes  upon  the  floor.  "  Do  you 
really  consider  it  bad  form?  Mr.  Ramsey,  you 
don't  think  so?" 

"  Well,"  stammered  the  agent,  "  it  does  look 
kind  of  odd  if  you're  not  used  to  seeing  ladies 
smoke.  But  then,  I  can't  see  any  special  harm  in  it 
— that  is,  if  you  like  it." 

"  There,  mother,  you  hear  what  Mr.  Ramsey 
says,  and  he  speaks  as  a  man  of  the  world." 

"  I  consider  it  both  vulgar  and  wicked,"  rejoined 
her  mother,  warmly ;  but  it  was  plain  that  her  first 
flood  of  indignation  ebbed. 

"  I  can't  believe,"  went  on  Myra,  between  puffs, 
"  that  if  it  were  vulgar  the  Queen  of  England  would 
smoke,  or  that  if  it  were  wicked  Bishop  Potter 
would  recommend  it  as  a  substitute  for  tea." 

r  138 1 


CHAPTER     SEVEN 

*'  Doesn't  it  make  you  sick  ?  "  demanded  Mrs. 
Dale,  severe  but  curious. 

"  Oh,  not  in  the  least.  You  have  no  idea  how 
soothing  I  find  it.  It  has  such  an  effect  upon  the 
brain;  thought  seems  to  come  without  an  effort. 
One  cannot  wonder  that  so  many  women  writers 
resort  to  cigarettes  for  inspiration." 

"  Dear  me ! "  said  Mrs.  Dale,  regarding  the 
transgressor  with  increasing  interest. 

"  My  father  had  an  old  aunt  who  smoked  a 
pipe,"  remarked  Mr.  Ramsey ;  but  seeing  that  his 
kinswoman  was  not  accepted  as  an  authority,  he 
regretted  having  mentioned  the  circumstance. 

"  Just  take  a  little  puff ! "  cried  Myra,  crossing 
to  her  mother  and  extending  the  attractive  mouth 
piece. 

"  Me?  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale.     "  Never !  " 
"  Only  one,  to  see  for  yourself  how  nice  it  is." 
"  I  am  perfectly  sure  it  would  make  me  ill,"  with 
fatal  deliberation. 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  so?     Look  at  me !  " 
Then,  being  tempted,  the  author  of  many  max 
ims  fell,  and  with  the  fall  came  retribution  swift 
and  sure,  made  manifest  in  a  fit  of  choking,  which 
sent  the  agent  bounding  into  the  kitchen  for  water. 
[  1391 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  You've  killed  me ! "  gasped  the  sufferer. 
"  You've  killed  your  mother !  " 

"  Oh,  no,  I  haven't,"  said  her  daughter,  reassur 
ingly  ;  "  but  you  should  never  swallow  the  smoke." 

Mrs.  Dale  coughed  again,  and  wiped  her  eyes. 

"  I  am  sure  I  deserved  nothing  less,"  she  said. 
"  And  what  can  Mr.  Ramsey  think  of  us  ?  " 

"  Candidly,  Mr.  Ramsey,"  said  Myra,  sweetly, 
"What  do  you  think?" 

"  If  you  was  my  daughter,"  answered  Mr.  Ram 
sey,  "  I'd  shake  you  good,  danged  if  I  wouldn't." 

Though  Mr.  Ramsey's  speech  was  frank  to  in 
civility  Myra  had  never  been  so  near  respecting  the 
little  man  before. 

"  You'll  do  better  next  time,  mother,"  she  sug 
gested. 

"  There  won't  be  any  next  time  for  me — nor  for 
you,  if  I  ever  get  hold  of  that  box,"  asserted  Mrs. 
Dale,  with  conviction. 

Throughout  the  scene  Myra's  heart  had  throbbed 
with  foolish  exultation.  Not  because  the  only  per 
son  who  could  have  sent  her  cigarettes  had  not  for 
gotten  her,  but  because  remembering  he  had  chosen 
this  reminder.  They  would  not  meet  again,  now 
F  1401 


CHAPTER     SEVEN 

that  the  colony  had  been  given  up ;  but  somewhere 
in  a  noisy  counting-house,  amid  the  click  of  type 
writers,  he  had  heard  again  the  calling  of  the 
pines.  It  was  not  long,  of  course,  to  be  remembered 
— three  weeks  exactly,  to  a  day — but  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life  she  realised  her  right  to  remem 
brance,  and  this  for  qualities  which,  though  not  on 
every  list  of  graces,  she  valued  in  herself. 

But  the  agent  of  Pineopolis  was  not  a  man  to 
pass  the  hours  of  daylight  in  social  relaxation,  and, 
much  as  he  esteemed  the  ladies  Dale,  he  found  their 
society  at  times  a  trifle  disconcerting. 

"  I've  got  a  heap  to  do,"  he  said,  slapping  his 
soft  felt  hat  upon  his  knee.  "  The  first  thing,  I 
must  hunt  up  a  fellow  who  has  a  sort  of  squatter's 
right  to  a  clearing  somewhere  hereabouts.  I  hear 
he  has  been  cutting  timber  on  our  land." 

"  There  is  no  one  near  here,"  Mrs.  Dale  rejoined, 
"  except  two  children  Myra  found  running  in  the 
woods,  and  they  are  too  small  to  cut  trees." 

"  Does  the  man  you  want  to  find  keep  pigs?  " 
inquired  Myra. 

"  Yes ;  he's  the  fellow,  and  a  pretty  tough  one, 
too,  I  guess — regular  pinelander.  You  don't  hap 
pen  to  know  which  way  he  lives?  " 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  No,  not  exactly,  but  I  feel  sure  I  could  find  the 
road." 

"  If  you  could  put  me  on  the  track  it  would  save 
me  a  lot  of  walking." 

"  May  I  go  with  you  ?  " 

"  You ! "  cried  Mr.  Ramsey,  brightening. 
"  Why,  certainly ;  but,  from  all  accounts,  the  place 
is  anything  but  a  flower-garden.  Perhaps  you 
wouldn't  mind  letting  me  go  on  ahead  when  we  get 
near  the  house.  It  won't  take  me  long  to  find  out 
all  I  want  to  know." 

"  But  I  wish  particularly  to  see  the  house,"  pro 
tested  Myra.  "  Wait  just  a  minute  till  I  get  my 
sun-bonnet." 


[142] 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A  BRISK    wind    blowing    from    the    morth 
brought  to  the  pines  a  breath  of  fall.    The 
sky,  seen  through  occasional  openings  over 
head,  was  blue  as  lapis-lazuli,  and  where  the  shafts 
of  sunlight  lay  the  dry  brown  needles  seemed  to 
burn.    It  was  a  morning  when  the  new  blood  tingles 
in  the  veins,  when  the  dancing  soul  laughs  at  the 
plodding  body,  and  the  body  runs  to  overtake  the 
soul. 

Mr.  Ramsey  had  never  found  his  companion  less 
disconcerting,  nor  her  sympathy  so  ready.  When 
he  told  her  of  the  cranberry  bog  she  listened,  and 
expressed  regret  that  certain  cuttings  had  refused 
to  root.  She  laughed  so  gaily  at  his  jokes — and 
even  when  there  were  no  j  okes  to  laugh  at — that  he 
dismissed  the  memory  of  a  note  indorsed  the  day 
before,  which  document  was  not  without  its  bearing 
on  the  visit  of  Professor  Dale  to  Thebes.  Even  the 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
fatal  days  of  grace,  so-called,  grew  distant  as  the 
Judgment  that  men  dread  and  disregard. 

To  him,  if  he  were  asked,  the  wind  meant  only 
that  the  weather  would  be  cold;  but  all  uncon 
sciously  he,  too,  joined  in  the  mighty  symphony, 
keeping  time  with  clumsy  fingers  upon  his  humble, 
home-made  instrument,  raising  a  feeble  voice  to 
swell  the  harmony.  And  the  burden  of  his  song 
was  poor  and  mean  or  grand  and  beautiful  as  the 
ear  that  should  hear  might  find  it — dollars  and 
cents !  So  many  here,  so  many  there ;  add,  divide, 
subtract,  and  the  balance  will  be  for  her  ! — for  her  ! 
for  her !  for  her !  It  is  a  chorus  that  the  wind  has 
known  since  the  gates  of  Eden  closed.  Dollars  and 
cents,  or  honour  and  life ! — and  a  balance  for  her ! 

But  if  Mr.  Ramsey  heard  no  music,  to  Myra  the 
windy  pines  seemed  like  a  military  band  playing  a 
quick-step  for  the  marching  universe.  She  could 
hear  the  brasses  and  the  trumpets  and  the  drums, 
and,  through  the  swing  of  stately  melody,  a  sharp 
staccato  measure  breaking  in — fantastic,  purpose 
less,  but  not  discordant — 

"  To  me  and  you 
When  skies  are  blue.     .     .     ." 

[146] 


CHAPTER     EIGHT 

"  Hello !  "  cried  Mr.  Ramsey,  when  they  came  to 
the  pit.  "  I  must  have  that  cabin  pulled  down,  or 
some  squatter  will  be  taking  possession  of  it." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  has  already  happened,"  said 
Myra,  laughing.  "  I  use  it  for  a  play-house." 

"  Oh !  then,  of  course " 

"  Yes ;  it  is  my  play-house,  and  here  are  my  dolls. 
Come  here,  Aleck ;  come  here,  Sis." 

It  required  persuasion  to  reconcile  the  children 
to  Mr.  Ramsey's  presence,  especially  as  that  gen 
tleman,  on  his  part,  made  few  advances,  and  still 
more  to  enlist  their  services  as  guides. 

"  But  we  want  to  see  dad ;  we  must  see  him  at 
once." 

"  All  right,"  muttered  Aleck,  sullenly.  "  Come 
on ;  but  I'm  a-goin'  to  catch  hell." 

As  they  went  on  again  Sis  walked  close  to  Myra, 
holding  her  hand,  and  Mr.  Ramsey  suggested: 

"  I  wouldn't  touch  that  kid  if  I  was  you ;  you 
don't  know  how  low  down  these  pinelanders  are." 

"  Oh,  we  are  old  friends ;  are  we  not,  Sis?  Come, 
speak  up !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Sis,  boldly. 

"  Yes,  what?  "  demanded  the  girl. 
[147] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

66  Yes,  Myradale,"  repeated  Sis,  as  though  it 
were  a  name  of  three  syllables. 

"  Say,  you  don't  let  her  call  you  that  ?  "  ex 
claimed  Mr.  Ramsey,  in  dismay. 

"  It  is  the  only  name  I  have,"  she  answered. 

"  This  way,  Myradale ! "  called  Aleck,  who  was 
far  ahead. 

"  I  swan,  I  wouldn't  have  it ! "  protested  the 
agent. 

"  Sis,  where  is  your  ribbon  ?  "  asked  Myra,  sud 
denly. 

"  Mam  swiped  it,"  replied  the  innocent. 

"  Lord,  but  they  are  low  down !  "  commented  Mr. 
Ramsey. 

"  You  should  not  say  that,"  cried  Myra,  indig 
nantly.  "  It  is  not  fair.  Sis  is  a  good,  gentle 
little  girl,  poor  child,  but  no  one  has  ever  taken  any 
care  of  her.  She  is  clever,  too.  Sis,  spell  cat." 

"  C-a-t,  cat ;  b-a-t,  bat ;  r-a-t,  rat,"  piped  the 
child,  obediently. 

When  it  was  plain  that  Mr.  Ramsey  was  not 
much  impressed  by  Sis's  accomplishments  the  com 
pany  proceeded  in  silence  for  several  minutes,  till 
presently  a  low  sound  became  audible,  which  seemed 


CHAPTER     EIGHT 

to  rise  from  the  ground,  and  Aleck,  who  had  waited 
for  the  others  to  come  up,  intimated  that  a  guide 
was  no  longer  needed. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  leave  the  children  here," 
said  Myra,  interpreting.  "  They  seem  to  be  afraid 
that  their  father  will  be  angry  at  their  showing  us 
the  way,  and  they  are  foolishly  timid  about  the 
pigs." 

"  They're  over  yon,"  put  in  the  boy,  pointing. 
"  If  yer  scairt,  yer  can  go  round ;  but  they  won't 
hurt  yer  if  yer  stand  up — only  if  yer  lay  down." 

"  I'll  take  your  word  for  that,"  said  Mr.  Ram 
sey. 

"  I  don't  think  I've  ever  seen  a  full-grown  pine- 
lander,"  remarked  Myra,  when  they  had  parted 
from  the  children.  "  What  are  they  like?  " 

"  Well,  they  say,"  replied  the  agent,  laughing, 
"  that  all  of  them  are  more  than  half-crazy.  I  sup 
pose  it's  living  by  themselves  so  much  and  not  seeing 
anyone  from  the  outside  for  months  together." 

"  But  how  do  they  manage  to  exist  at  all  ?  What 
do  they  live  on  ?  " 

"  Oh,  they  are  mostly  timber  thieves  and  charcoal 
burners  on  the  sly.     Some  of  them  raise  a  little 
[149] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
corn,  or  maybe  pigs,  where  there  are  acorns,  and 
some  of  them  make  apple-jack  unknown  to  the  in 
spectors.  There  used  to  be  counterfeiters  in  the 
woods  years  ago,  but  there  isn't  any  of  that  now. 
All  the  same,  most  of  them  are  up  to  something 
crooked." 

"  That  is  not  surprising  when  you  think  how  dull 
life  is  for  them.  The  temptation  must  be  irre 
sistible."  After  a  moment  she  added,  reflectively, 
"  I  am  sure  the  world  would  never  have  been  as 
wicked  as  it  is  if  Cain  had  been  allowed  to  remain 
with  the  family." 

"  Cain?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Ramsey,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes ;  you  remember  they  put  him  off  by  him 
self  in  Nod,  with  nobody  to  speak  to  but  Satan,  and 
nothing  to  do  but  to  invent  sins  and  plans  to  annoy 
the  good  people." 

"  But,"  protested  Mr.  Ramsey,  who  was  nothing 
if  not  orthodox,  "  Cain  was  real  low  down  by 
nature." 

"  We  can't  be  sure  of  that.  Of  course,  he  should 
have  had  more  self-control  when  Abel  aggravated 
him,  but  he  didn't  know  then  how  easy  it  is  to  kill 
people,"  Myra  suggested,  rashly. 

r  150 1 


CHAPTER     EIGHT 

"  Somehow,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey,  "  you  folks  seem 
to  have  got  hold  of  a  different  kind  of  Bible  from 
any  I  ever  read.  I  guess  that  must  be  the  pigs." 

The  low  sound,  for  some  time  vaguely  audible 
above  the  murmur  of  the  trees,  now  grew  louder  and 
easily  recognisable  as  the  disputing  of  swine  over 
fodder.  Although  the  herd  was  evidently  a  large 
one,  the  homely  barn-yard  suggestion  was  anything 
but  terrifying. 

Soon  other  signs  of  habitation  appeared,  and  the 
visitors  made  several  detours  to  avoid  unattractive 
heaps  of  rubbish.  Once,  in  crossing  a  glade  where 
the  sand  lay  bared  of  its  accustomed  covering  of 
needles,  Myra's  foot  struck  an  obstacle  which 
proved  to  be  a  large  bone.  Investigation  discovered 
others  scattered  under  the  trees,  and  among  them  a 
bigger  object,  identified  by  Mr.  Ramsey  as  the  skull 
of  a  horse. 

"  How  do  you  suppose  it  came  here?  "  the  girl 
asked,  recalling  unpleasantly  Aleck's  repeated  ref 
erences  to  horses. 

"  The  pigs  must  have  brought  it,"  the  agent  an 
swered.  "  They  are  great  at  digging  up  anything 
that's  buried." 

[151] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
"  But  they  don't  go  about  loose,  do  they  ?  "  de 
manded  Myra,  slackening  her  pace. 

"  Oh,  I  guess  they  do ;  but  we  won't  have  to  see 
them,"  he  answered,  reassuringly.  "  There  is  the 
clearing  off  to  the  right,  and  the  roof  of  a  house." 
But  scarcely  had  he  spoken  when  a  turn  in  the 
road  brought  them  suddenly  upon  the  herd,  num 
bering  two-score  or  more,  gathered  in  a  narrow 
amphitheatre  so  compactly  that  the  rounded  backs 
• — black,  white,  and  mottled — pressed  close  together 
as  eggs  in  a  basket.  From  a  rough  waggon,  such 
as  farmer's  use  for  hay,  a  man  stood  looking  down 
upon  the  pigs,  who  in  their  turn  regarded  him  with 
blood-shot,  supplicating  eyes,  their  heads  erect, 
their  great,  palpitating  snouts  silent  for  the  mo 
ment  with  greedy  expectation.  He  was  a  small, 
wiry  man,  with  a  matted  shock  of  sun-bleached  hair 
and  a  ragged  tuft  of  beard.  His  upper  lip,  shaven 
in  some  strange  conceit,  and  protruding  like  the  lip 
of  an  ape,  moved  as  he  faced  his  swine  in  malignant 
grimaces.  From  time  to  time  he  made  with  his 
arms  the  movement  of  throwing  something  from 
him,  which,  to  his  evident  amusement,  deceived  the 
les«  sagacious  of  the  pigs  into  violent  agitation. 
[152] 


CHAPTER     EIGHT 

At  first  sight  there  was  nothing  repellent  in  the 
scene,  and,  held  by  curiosity,  Myra  and  the  agent 
watched  from  a  distance,  as  explorers  who  happen 
unobserved  upon  some  aboriginal  rite.  But  pres 
ently,  when  the  man,  taking  up  a  broad-axe,  began 
vigorously  to  hew  some  object  hidden  in  the 
waggon,  the  herd  broke  into  mad  confusion.  As 
he  worked  he  appeared  to  detach  fragments,  which 
he  hurled  to  left  and  right  among  the  pigs,  and  for 
which  they  fought  and  struggled  with  a  wolfish 
fury,  the  larger  throwing  the  weight  of  their  great 
bodies  against  the  smaller,  the  strong  attacking  the 
weak  with  savage  tusks.  Sometimes  in  the  battle 
several  would  go  down  together,  and  lie  for  an  in 
stant,  heaped  like  bloated  carrion  on  a  battle-field ; 
sometimes  one,  rising  above  the  rest,  would  stand 
erect  in  the  likeness  of  a  naked,  misshapen  man, 
beating  the  air  with  short,  impotent  arms ;  and  all 
the  while  the  pines  resounded  with  the  tumult  of 
their  strife,  rage,  avarice,  cowardice,  the  lust  of  the 
belly. 

"  Oh,  let  us  go  away  as  quickly  as  we  can ! " 
cried  Myra,  grasping  Mr.  Ramsey's  arm. 

"  Hold  on  a  second,"  said  the  agent,  now  alert 
[153] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
and  watchful.  "  There's  something  here  that  will 
bear  looking  into."  But  the  wind,  which  had  been 
with  them,  falling  just  then,  they  both  drew  back, 
well-nigh  overpowered  by  a  sickening  stench. 
When,  hurrying  through  the  pines,  they  had  come 
to  where  the  air  was  pure  again,  and  only  distant 
sounds  of  conflict  recalled  what  they  had  seen,  he 
said: 

"  I  guess  we've  had  enough  pinelander  for  one 
day.  I  guess  we  had  better  put  for  home  as  fast  as 
we  can  toddle.  I  might  have  known  that  it  wouldn't 
do  for  you  to  come." 

"  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  answered.  "  It  was  dis 
agreeable,  but  I'm  not  at  all  upset.  Tell  me  what  it 
was  that  he  was  doing." 

"  I  guess  he  was  feeding  something  to  his  swine 
that  the  law  don't  allow— that's  all." 

"  He  seemed  to  be  throwing  them  meat.  Was  that 
possible?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  when  we  get  home — not  here." 

"  But  I  am  not  going  home  yet,"  she  answered, 

firmly.     "  That  was  the  man  the  children  call  6  Dad/ 

I  am  sure,  and  I  want  to  see  the  woman  they  call 

6  Mam."     It  is  not  curiosity,  I  assure  you,  Mr.  Ram- 

[  154  1 


CHAPTER     EIGHT 

sey;  but  I  must  know  about  these  people  for  the 
sake  of  their  children.  I  must  go  to  their  house 
and  speak  to  them." 

"  Please  don't  do  that,"  he  urged.  "  Let  us  go 
home  now,  and  when  I  come  here  another  day,  I 
promise  you  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"  Tell  me  what  you  know  now,  and  take  me  to 
the  house.  I'm  not  afraid.  I'm  not  like  other 
girls,"  she  answered,  half  beseeching,  half  im 
perious. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  the  agent  rejoined,  confront 
ing  her;  "if  you  must  know,  it's  clear  to  me  that 
this  fellow  is  hiding  down  here  so  that  he  can  fatten 
his  pigs  on  dead  animals.  What  we  saw  is  enough 
to  send  him  to  the  penitentiary,  and  it  won't  be  my 
fault  if  it  don't.  His  house  is  no  place  for  you,  and 
his  kids  are  no  company  for  you.  He'll  go  to  jail, 
and  they'll  go  to  the  poorhouse ;  and  what  kind  of 
a  man  would  I  be  to  let  you  mix  up  in  it?  " 

"  What  kind  of  a  man  would  you  be  to  let  me  go 
alone  ?  "  Myra  retorted,  tossing  her  head,  and  mak 
ing  straight  for  the  open,  while  Mr.  Ramsey,  not 
being  the  kind  of  man  to  dissuade  her  from  her 
purpose,  followed  "the  next  best  course,  and  walked 

beside  her,  still  protesting. 

[155] 


CHAPTER  NINE 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  home  of  the  pig-man  stood  in  the 
midst  of  a  clearing  which  one  familiar 
with  the  pines  would  have  recognised  as 
the  site  of  an  abandoned  lumber-camp.  The  house, 
a  former  saw-mill,  had  been  built  of  slabs  and  cull- 
ings,  but  so  long  ago  that  the  young  oaks  now  grew 
high  above  the  roof,  while  on  every  hand  straggling 
saplings,  scant  of  foliage  and  bare  of  lower 
branches,  stood  huddled  in  lean  clusters  or  spread 
in  uninviting  groves.  The  building,  never  more 
than  a  rough  shelter  for  machinery,  had  settled  and 
warped  and  disintegrated,  till  the  leaning  walls  were 
only  held  erect  by  props  and  stays  at  every  angle ; 
and  the  roof,  patched  here  and  there  with  rusty  tin 
and  scraps  of  black  tarred  paper,  seemed  about  to 
fall. 

On  the  edge  of  the  forest  Mr.  Ramsey  gave  a 
final  word  of  caution. 

f  159] 


MYRA    OF     THE     PINES 
"  Of  course,  it  won't  do  to  let  on  that  we  suspect 
anything,  so  I'll  just  make  out  that  I  want  to  buy 
a  pig." 

"  Very  well,"  Myra  assented.     "  But  do  let  us 
say  that  we  prefer  a  small  one." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  take  it  really,"  he  ex 
plained. 

"  Of  course  not ;  but  we  might  have  to  look  at  it." 
The  house  nowhere  gave  any  of  the  thousand 
tokens  which  mark  the  living  dwelling  from  the 
dead,  deserted  shell — a  milk-pan  in  the  sun,  a  hand 
kerchief  upon  a  hedge,  a  flower,  a  cat — these  tell 
that  the  heart  of  a  house  is  beating,  that  the  soul 
of  a  house  is  on  her  throne ;  but  about  the  home  of 
the  pig-man  was  only  sand,  trodden  and  furrowed 
by  swine;  its  corners  were  polished  by  the  itching 
sides  of  pigs,  and  its  door-yard  full  of  ugly  hollows, 
moulded  to  the  shape  of  bloated  bodies.  As  the 
back,  so  was  the  front ;  but  here  a  door  stood  open, 
and  upon  the  threshold  a  woman  sat,  huddled,  im 
passive  and  blinking,  as  a  toad  in  the  sun.  She  did 
not  look  toward  the  strangers,  but,  like  a  toad,  she 
watched  their  coming  from  the  corner  of  her  eye, 
and,  as  in  recognition  of  their  presence,  drew  her 
[160] 


CHAPTER     NINE 

bare  feet  beneath  the  ragged  hem  of  a  grimy  cotton 
wrapper.  By  an  almost  imperceptible  movement  of 
the  head  she  resented  the  intrusion,  and,  to  accentu 
ate  the  resentment,  spat. 

"You  see  how  terribly  low  down  they  are?" 
whispered  Mr.  Ramsey  to  Myra,  instinctively 
stretching  his  arm  across  the  path  to  detain  her. 
"  Don't  you  think,  after  all,  it  would  be  better  to 
go  back?" 

But  Myra  had  not  passed  the  ordeal  of  Dad  to 
shrink  from  Mam,  and  as  he  hesitated  she  ad 
vanced.  She  received  no  greeting,  and  did  not  ex 
pect  one,  for  in  the  silent,  sullen  woman  she  recog 
nised  a  long  familiar  type.  Going  directly  to  the 
open  door  she  looked  over  the  stooped  head  into  the 
house,  and  shortly,  but  not  uncivilly,  demanded: 

"Where  is  the  boss?" 

"  He  ain't  in  there,"  growled  the  pig-woman, 
sullenly,  without  taking  the  trouble  to  move  her 
lips.  "  I  don't  know  where  he  is." 

"  We  want  to  see  him  about  something,"  Myra 
persisted,  to  provoke  discussion. 

"  Well,  you'd  better  look  for  him,"  returned  the 
woman ;  but,  being  a  daughter  of  Eve,  she  added : 
[161] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  What  do  you  want  to  see  him  about?  " 

"  About  buying  a  pig." 

"  Well,  I  guess  he'll  sell  you  one  "—this  with  a 
scarcely  perceptible  decrease  of  animosity — "  I 
guess  likely  he's  got  one  to  suit  you.  Go  down  to 
the  barn  and  holler;  he  ain't  far  off." 

"  Perhaps  I  had  better  wait  here  while  you  look 
for  him,"  suggested  Myra  to  Mr.  Ramsey,  at  the 
same  time  signalling  her  wish  to  be  alone  with  the 
woman. 

The  low  group  of  sheds  and  outhouses  was  not 
far  distant,  and  the  agent,  moving  toward  them, 
said :  "  I  sha'n't  be  long ;  I  sha'n't  go  out  of  sight." 

"  Is  that  your  gentleman  friend?  "  the  woman 
inquired,  following  him  with  her  eyes. 

"  No,"  replied  Myra,  shortly,  but  without  per 
ceptible  resentment. 

"  You  don't  fool  me,"  returned  the  woman, 
chuckling.  "  I  know  the  signs  too  well.  I  had 
friends  myself  in  my  day — plenty  of  them — and 
little  good  it  was  they  done  me." 

"  I  wish  you  would  let  me  have  a  chair,"  said 
Myra,  meeting  the  insolent  eyes  unmoved.  "  I  am 
tired." 

F  1621 


CHAPTER     NINE 

The  woman,  reaching  into  the  house,  drew  forth 
a  wooden  chair. 

"  I  thought  maybe  you  held  yourself  too  good 
to  sit  down,"  she  sniffed,  half  apologetically. 

"  Well,  I'm  too  tired  to  stand  up.  I've  come 
nearly  two  miles,"  returned  Myra,  pressing  the 
chair's  legs  into  the  sand  to  insure  stability.  "  It's 
a  lovely  day,  isn't  it?  "  But  the  remark  meeting 
with  no  response,  she  composed  herself  to  silent  ob 
servation. 

Though  the  pig-woman  could  not  have  passed 
her  thirtieth  year  her  face  was  drawn  and  blood 
less  as  the  face  of  one  much  older,  and  about  her 
mouth  were  hard,  unmistakable  lines  telling  of 
worse  than  bodily  decay.  Want  and  work  had  left 
their  impress  upon  the  hollow  cheeks,  and  suffering 
— suffering  that  had  ranged  the  wide,  waste  places 
beyond  the  walls  of  pain — looked  from  the  wander 
ing,  foolish  eyes ;  but  the  story  of  the  lips  was  the 
story  of  abominations,  and  the  lines  about  them 
were  the  scars  of  friendships  that  had  done  her 
little  good.  Her  hair  was  black  as  ink,  save  where, 
upon  one  side,  a  dash  of  white  lay,  startling  as  the 
contrast  of  a  magpie's  wing.  There  was  dust  in 
[163] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
the  hair  and  a  smudge  of  soot  across  her  chin,  but 
upon  her  forehead  this  slattern,  this  drudge  among 
pariahs,  preserved  one  symbol  of  her  sex- — a  row  of 
curl-papers,  inconsequent  as  flags  upon  a  sunken 
ship. 

As  Myra  noted  these  things  she  feigned  an  in 
terest  in  the  house,  and  presently  the  woman,  whose 
eyes  had  not  been  idle,  broke  out: 

"  When  you  get  through  staring,  maybe  you'll 
tell  us  what  you  think  of  it.  Pretty  little  cottage, 
ain't  it?  Sorter  Gawthic!  " 

"  Oh,  it  is  much  the  same  as  ours,"  said  Myra ; 
"  only  ours  is  newer." 

"  Whereabouts  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  Over  that  way,"  nodding  toward  Pineopolis. 

"  New  place  on  the  road  to  Thebes?  " 

"  Yes,  at  the  cross-roads ;  we  have  not  been  there 
very  long." 

The  pig-woman  favoured  her  visitor  with  a 
scrutiny  that  took  in  every  detail  of  sun-bonnet, 
shoes,  and  cotton  dress. 

"  Aren't  them  sleeves  bigger  than  they're  wear 
ing  now?  "  she  asked. 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  think  not,"  said  the  other.    "  I  made 
[164] 


CHAPTER     NINE 

them  from  a  pattern  in  a  paper  that  we  take.  It's 
a  splendid  paper  for  hints,  and  I'll  be  glad  to  lend 
it  to  you,  if  you  like." 

It  did  not  appear  in  the  speaker's  voice  that  there 
might  be  lack  of  sympathy  between  the  Inglenook 
and  the  pig-woman,  and  the  offer,  though  not  ac 
cepted,  was  not  ill-received.  A  look  of  cunning 
crept  into  the  woman's  face,  reminding  Myra  pain 
fully  of  Sis,  at  Sis's  worst. 

"  I  did  think  I  might  be  after  getting  me  a  velvet 
jacket  if  I  had  a  chance,"  was  the  preposterous 
remark.  But  the  bravado  of  the  pig-woman  was 
too  weak  to  be  despised. 

"  Velvet  catches  so  much  dust,"  suggested  Myra. 
"  I  should  think  cloth  would  be  better." 

The  woman  gave  a  toad-like  wink. 

"  It's  likely  I'll  have  either,"  she  answered,  with 
a  dreary  laugh.  "  This  get-up  would  look  stylish 
with  a  jacket,  wouldn't  it,  now?" 

"  It  would  look  better  for  being  washed,"  said 
Myra,  boldly. 

"Ah,  what's  the  difference?"  cried  the  woman, 
tucking     the     tattered     skirt     about     her     knees. 
"  What's  the  difference  if  it  would  ?     A  rag  is  a 
F165  I 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

rag,  clean  or  dirty.     You  mightn't  think  it,  but  I 

used  to  be  particular  what  I  had  on.     I  threw  away 

a  petticoat  once  because  it  had  an  iron-mark  on  it 

— a  petticoat  that  cost  me  six  dollars." 

"  What  a  pity !  " 

"  I  didn't  mind  then ;  I  had  plenty  more."  Then, 
after  a  break,  "  How  many  pairs  of  shoes  have 
you?" 

"  One  good  pair,"  was  the  truthful  answer. 

"  Pshaw !  "  cried  the  other.  "  Once  I  had  more 
shoes  than  I  could  count." 

"  It  must  be  getting  late,"  said  Myra,  with  a 
nervous  glance  toward  the  barn.  It  came  to  her 
instinctively  that  this  multitude  of  shoes  symbolised 
something  beyond  her  understanding,  beyond  her 
desire  to  understand,  and  she  would  have  obeyed  her 
impulse  to  call  Mr.  Ramsey  had  not  a  new  expres 
sion  in  the  woman's  eyes  deterred  her.  Bold  eyes 
they  were,  and  in  them  now  defiance  mingled  with 
contempt.  "  You  are  a  coward,"  they  seemed  to 
say.  "  You  are  afraid  of  truth  when  she  is 
dirty.  You  are  a  miserable  coward  like  the  rest." 
Myra,  who  had  started  forward,  leaned  back 
against  the  broken  chair,  meeting  the  woman's  look 

unflinchingly. 

[166] 


CHAPTER     NINE 

"  That  was  before  your  marriage,  I  suppose — 
before  you  came  to  the  pines?"  she  said. 

Mam  put  the  back  of  a  red  hand  across  her 
mouth  to  control  a  burst  of  vulgar  merriment. 

"  You're  right,  my  dear,"  she  tittered.  "  I 
wasn't  married  then,"  and,  in  feigned  surprise,  she 
added :  "  I  thought  you  was  going  home." 

"  No ;  I  want  to  hear  more  about  your  clothes." 

"Clothes?"  sniffed  the  pig-woman.  "I  had 
clothes  to  burn.  I  was  a  dandy  dresser  then.  You 
think  yourself  good-looking,  but  I  tell  you,  you 
couldn't  have  done  business  on  the  same  block  with 
me.  Money !  that  for  it !  And  clothes !  I  tell  you 
I  had  clothes  to  burn.  I  had  a  plush  suit  that  cost 
a  hundred — cardinal  plush,  trimmed  with  gold 
braid,  and  fur  five  inches  deep  around  the  hem; 
and  a  hat  to  match.  You  could  see  me  a  mile  off — 
you  couldn't  lose  me !  And  I  had  red  silk  stockings. 
Holy  saints ! " 

She  broke  off  suddenly,  caught  by  some  killing 
pain  of  memory,  perhaps,  or  perhaps  an  image  of 
her  own  young  self  rose  up  to  mock  her  through 
the  swine-polluted  air.  So  might  that  other,  in  a 
famine-stricken  land,  have  bragged  as  he  gnawed 
I  167] 


MYRA     OF    THE     PINES 
his  husks,  babbling  of  rich  attire  and  hired  servants, 
had  no  eyes  watched  for  him  a  great  way  off. 

For  a  time  the  woman  did  not  speak  again,  but 
sat  with  hard  eyes  looking  straight  before  her  into 
the  forest.  When  presently  she  swore  beneath  her 
breath  and  spat,  Myra  turned  furtively  to  make 
sure  that  Mr.  Ramsey  was  still  in  sight. 

The  agent  stood  beside  the  barn,  in  conversation 
with  the  owner  of  the  herd,  who  leaned  across  a 
broken  gate  to  point  out  some  object — presumably 
a  pig — within  a  small  inclosure.  The  sight  brought 
reassurance,  and  Myra  abruptly  forced  a  change  in 
her  companion's  thoughts. 

"You  have  two  children,  haven't  you?"  she 
asked. 

"  Maybe  I  have  and  maybe  I  haven't,"  replied 
the  woman,  with  her  old  stolidity,  adding,  with  a 
significant  nod :  "  If  I  have,  they  are  nothing  to 
you,  and  you  want  to  leave  them  alone." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  I  wouldn't  harm 
your  children." 

"  You  want  to  leave  them  alone,  do  you  hear 
me?" 

"  But  I  like  them.     I  want  to  do  them  all  the 
good  I  can,"  persisted  Myra. 
[  168  ] 


CHAPTER     NINE 

"  He  won't  have  it.  You  want  to  leave  them 
alone,"  the  woman  repeated,  doggedly. 

"Does  their  father  object  to  my  teaching 
them  ?  "  demanded  Myra,  alert  to  advance  the  ob 
ject  of  her  visit. 

"  I  tell  you  he  won't  have  it,"  said  Mam  again. 

"  But  he  can't  want  them  to  grow  up  without 
knowing  how  to  read,"  insisted  Myra.  "  Just  think 
what  a  disadvantage  that  would  be  to  them  all 
through  their  lives." 

"  Little  he  cares  for  that." 

"But  you  care,  don't  you?" 

Her  chin  upon  her  hand,  the  pig-woman  regarded 
her  visitor  imperturbably.  After  a  moment  she 
announced,  with  charming  frankness: 

•'  You  make  me  tired." 

Which  idiom,  though  never  flattering,  Myra  wel 
comed  as  a  distinct  advance  toward  mutual  unre 
serve. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  demanded,  smiling,  in  spite  of 
herself. 

"  Because,"  explained  the  pig-woman,  dispas 
sionately,  and  speaking  for  the  first  time  in  her 
natural  voice,  which  was  soft  and  Celtic — "  because 
[169] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
you  want  to  poke  your  nose  into  other  folk's  affairs, 
and  keep  it  there  as  long  as  it  amuses  you.     But — 
small  blame  to  you — you'd  be  quick  enough  to  pull 
it  out  if  there  was  trouble." 

"  You  are  very  much  mistaken,"  Myra  answered, 
flushing.  "  I  have  no  wish  to  interfere  in  your  af 
fairs.  I  only  thought,  being  so  far  from  any 
school,  you  would  rather  have  your  children  learn 
to  -read  and  write  than  grow  up  little  savages." 
She  checked  herself,  conscious  of  an  irritation  that 
might  defeat  her  cause.  But  the  woman  only 
laughed. 

"  That  hair  of  yours  ain't  red  for  nothing,"  she 
remarked ;  and  added,  with  an  evident  intent  toward 
conciliation,  "  I'll  bet  there's  lots  of  young  fellows 
that  has  found  that  out." 

"  I  had  rather  talk  of  your  children  than  my 
self,"  responded  Myra. 

The  woman  shrugged  her  stooping  shoulders. 

"  Lord !  I  ain't  seen  anyone  in  so  long  I've  most 
forgotten  how  to  talk,"  she  said ;  and,  prompted 
by  an  intercepted  glance  toward  the  barn,  added : 
"  You  ain't  afraid  of  him  already,  are  you?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Myra.  "  I  am  not  afraid  of 
anyone  in  the  world." 

[170] 


CHAPTER     NINE 

"  That's  right  " — with  an  approving  nod — "  J 
used  to  be  like  that  myself." 

"  I  want  to  speak  especially  of  your  little  girl,'" 
persisted  Myra.  "  She  cannot  remain  here  always*. 
Some  day  she  will  go  out  among  people  and  grow 
up  a  good  woman,  and  marry  and  have  children  of 
her  own.  She  is  so  pretty,  and  so  smart." 

For  a  moment  the  pig-woman's  dull  eyes  grew 
bright  with  pride  of  motherhood. 

"  Sis  ain't  got  no  call  to  be  a  fool,"  she  said, 
tossing  her  frowsy  head,  with  its  curl-papers  and 
white  streak. 

"  And  you  will  let  the  children  come  to  see  me?  " 
Myra  pursued  her  advantage. 

"  If  they've  a  mind  to,  I  won't  bother  stopping 
them,"  the  woman  assented,  graciously  enough; 
and,  as  though  struck  by  her  own  complaisance,  she 
went  on : 

"  Say,  when  you  come  round  the  corner  of  the 
house  just  now  I  would  have  swatted  you  with  a 
brick,  if  I'd  had  one  handy.  Funny,  ain't  it?  " 

If  Myra  found  the  circumstance  amusing,  she 
had  no  chance  to  say  so,  for  at  that  moment  the 
voice  of  Mr.  Ramsey  was  heard  to  sound  a  note  of 
warning. 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Look  out,  Miss  Dale !  "  he  called,  but  without 
great  alarm;  and  with  his  came  another  voice,  in 
timbre  that  of  the  Devil  in  the  tragedy  of  "  Mr. 
Punch." 

"  Head  him  off,  you  fool !  You  blank  fool,  head 
him  off!" 

Close  upon  the  outcry  came  the  occasion  of  it, 
running  rapidly  toward  the  woman — in  shape  a 
small  black  pig,  which  had  in  some  way  escaped 
from  the  litter.  At  sight  of  him  the  pig-woman 
sprang  to  her  feet;  but  the  movement  only  caused 
the  wily  animal  to  swerve  from  his  course,  and  dis 
appear  beneath  the  house.  As  she  stood  with  her 
ragged  garments  clinging  to  her  the  woman  looked 
an  Amazon  of  strength;  but  when  the  angry, 
crooked  little  man  came  panting  up  the  slight  as 
cent,  she  shrank  back,  cowering  before  him. 

"  What  in  Gehenna  did  you  let  him  get  in  there 
for?"  croaked  the  pig-man,  pushing  her  aside  so 
roughly  that  she  caught  at  the  back  of  Myra's 
chair  to  keep  from  falling.  Recovering  herself, 
she  called  after  him  a  curse  that  sent  the  blood  to 
the  girl's  cheeks.  At  this  the  man  turned  with  a 
volley  of  abuse,  to  which  she  might  have  answered, 
f  172  1 


CHAPTER     NINE 

giving  like  for  like,  had  not  the  agent  stepped  be 
tween  them. 

"  It's  none  of  my  affair,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey, 
quietly,  as  he  faced  the  man,  "  and  if  your  wife  is 
fool  enough  to  put  up  with  it,  it's  her  lookout; 
but  you've  got  to  let  up  on  that  kind  of  talk  when 
there's  decent  folks  about." 

"  Who  says  so?  "  demanded  the  pig-man,  and  his 
bristling  hair  appeared  to  rise  on  end. 

"  I  say  so,"  replied  the  other. 

"  You?    You'll  stop  me,  will  you?  " 

"  I  might  have  a  try  at  it,"  returned  Mr.  Ram 
sey,  undismayed,  while  Myra,  to  her  own  surprise, 
felt  her  blood  tingle  with  partisan  excitement. 
From  the  stand-point  of  a  looker-on,  it  was  evident 
that  the  pig-man  would  stop  short  of  personal  en 
counter. 

"  Ah,  gwan ;  who's  talking  to  you  ?  "  he  mut 
tered,  sullenly. 

"  All  we  want  is  civility,  and  not  much  of  that," 
announced  the  agent,  finding  a  phrase  to  fit  the 
occasion  in  his  stock.  For  principle — and  Myra — 
he  was  ready  to  give  battle;  but  Mr.  Ramsey  was 
a  man  of  peace.  Seeing  that  the  incident  was 
[173] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
closed,     he    asked,    reverting    to    the    matter    in 
hand : 

"  How  much  did  you  say  that  black  fellow  was 
worth?" 

"  Ten  cents,"  growled  the  man,  wounded  honour 
yielding  reluctant  precedence  to  thrift. 

"  Ten  cents ! "  cried  the  agent,  in  amazement. 
"  Ten  cents  for  a  whole  live  pig?  " 

At  this  the  man  burst  into  a  hoarse,  derisive 
laugh,  in  which  the  woman  joined  shrilly;  and 
Myra,  as  she  glanced  from  one  to  the  other,  ob 
served  that  neither  had  just  cause  for  vanity  in  the 
matter  of  teeth. 

"  I  guess  you've  bought  pigs  afore !  "  snorted  the 
man,  with  mocking  irony.  "  I  reckon  you're  an  old 
hand  at  the  business." 

"  Arrah,  what's  the  difference?"  cried  the 
woman,  spitting.  "  Tell  him  it's  by  the  pound  you 
mean." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mr.  Ramsey,  with  embarrassment. 
"  I  thought  that  was  pretty  cheap.  Is  he  old 
enough  to — to  take  care  of  himself?  " 

"  You  want  to  raise  him,  do  you?  "  scoffed  the 
man.     "  Well,  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  bring  him 
back  at  meal-times  for  a  week  or  two."    He  laughed 
[174] 


CHAPTER     NINE 

again  at  his  own  humour,  and  added  nursery  de 
tails,  looking  impertinently  at  Myra,  who  turned 
her  back  upon  him. 

From  her  first  sight  of  the  man  she  had  aban 
doned  any  thought  of  an  appeal  to  him,  and  now 
her  one  wish  was  to  bring  the  visit  to  an  end.  If 
for  a  moment  she  had  fancied  herself  strong  enough 
to  lift  her  sister  by  the  wayside,  beaten  of  thieves, 
and  passed  by  priest  and  Levite,  that  hope  had 
vanished  when,  following  close  upon  the  blow,  the 
two  had  laughed  at  Mr.  Ramsey's  ignorance  of 
pigs. 

"  Come !  it  must  be  growing  late,"  she  said  to  the 
agent,  and  his  presence  made  her  bold  to  add  an 
invitation  to  her  hostess. 

"  You  must  return  my  visit,  for  neighbours 
should  be  sociable,  you  know." 

The  woman  laughed. 

"  I  guess  you  know  as  much  about  pinelanders  as 
your  feller  does  about  sucking-pigs."  The  man 
had  disappeared  beneath  the  house  in  pursuit  of  the 
deserter. 

At  the  edge  of  the  forest  the  visitors,  hearing 
steps  behind  them,  turned,  to  see  the  pig-woman 
[175] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
shuffling  clumsily  to  overtake  them  in  a  pair  of 
large  man's  shoes. 

"  Hold  on,  you  have  dropped  something ! "  she 
called;  but,  with  a  wink,  explained  "  that's  just  a 
blind — I  thought  he  might  be  looking.  Here,  you, 
young  man,  go  on  a  piece."  The  last  to  Mr.  Ram 
sey,  who  most  reluctantly  obeyed.  When  he  was  out 
of  hearing,  she  began : 

"  See  here,  do  you  want  that  young  one?  " 

"Why,  I  think  not  to-day,"  Myra  faltered. 
"  It's  too  young." 

"  Pshaw !  "  returned  the  woman.  "  I  don't  mean 
the  pig ;  I  mean  the  kid — Sis.  Supposin'  I  had  to 
get  out  of  here,  would  you  see  she  was  put  some 
where  she  might  have  a  chance  to  grow  up  like  you 
said?" 

The  mother's  face  was  drawn  and  anxious.  In  a 
moment  she  had  grown  older — old  enough  to  have 
parted  company  with  her  own  pitiful  youth,  old 
enough  for  second  innocence. 

"  Yes,"  Myra  answered,  as  she  would  have  an 
swered  had  the  appeal  demanded  greater  sacrifice; 
"  we  will  do  the  best  we  can  for  your  little  girl  at 
any  time.  But,  you  know,  we  are  not  rich " 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  the  woman  assured  her. 
[176] 


CHAPTER     NINE 

"  You're  poor  enough,  or  you  wouldn't  be  in  the 
pines ;  but  you  ain't  low  down  like  me.  They 
wouldn't  set  the  dog  on  you  if  you  was  to  show  your 
face  in  the  yard.  They  wouldn't  lock  the  barn  so 
you  couldn't  get  in  out  of  the  wet.  They  wouldn't 
damn  you,  body  and  soul,  for  being  a  woman  in 
stead  of  the  worst  hobo  that  ever  took  the  road." 

"  You  mustn't  say  such  things,"  protested  Myra, 
gently.  "  Nobody  would  treat  you  so.  I  will  find 
a  home  for  Sis,  indeed  I  will ;  and  I  am  sure  there 
are  many  others  who  would  be  glad  to  help,  too." 

"  Never  mind  the  others,"  said  the  pig-woman, 
desperately.  "  I've  heard  about  them  others  be 
fore.  You're  my  last  chance,  and  what  I  want  to 
know  is,  will  you  or  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  be  a  friend  to  your  little  girl  in  every 
way  I  can,"  said  Myra,  solemnly. 

"  That'll  do ;  that's  all  I  want,"  the  woman  an 
nounced.  "  Maybe  the  time  won't  come  at  all  and 
maybe  it'll  be  here  sooner  than  you  think.  Look 
if  you  see  him  coming." 

"  No ;  there  is  no  one  coming,"  Myra  answered, 
adding,  hurriedly :  "  I  must  go  now,  but  I  will  come 
to  see  you  again." 

"  Don't  you  do  it,"  returned  the  woman,  prompt- 

fi77l 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
ly.  "  I  don't  want  any  midnight  mission  business. 
I  done  all  the  harm  I  could,  and  I  only  let  up  when 
my  time  was  over.  There  ain't  no  use  pretending 
I  wouldn't  do  it  all  again,  for  I  would — more  fool 
me — but  it  ain't  fair  for  the  kid  to  start  in  where 
I  finish.  There's  no  use  making  plans — maybe 
there's  a  God  about  somewhere.  He  ain't  been  much 
where  I've  lived,  but  I've  come  across  his  tracks 
more'n  once,  and  He's  liable  to  run  things  to  suit 
Himself." 

"  Why  do  you  only  speak  of  Sis?  "  asked  Myra. 
"  Surely  you  ought  to  think  of  Aleck,  too?  " 

"  Oh,  he  ain't  mine,"  the  woman  answered,  toss 
ing  her  head.  "  He  ain't  mine,  and  Sis  ain't  his. 
Besides,  a  boy  can  hustle — a  boy's  got  a  show. 
He'd  clear  out  in  an  hour  if  Sis  was  gone." 

"  And  you  would  be  left  alone  with  that — 
that — "  Myra  paused  for  want  of  a  word  fitting 
yet  discreet ;  and  the  pig-man's  consort  laughed  at 
her  hesitation,  as  she  said: 

"  Say  it  or  think  it ;  it's  all  one  to  me.  I'd  not 
stop  long  with  Sis  away." 

"  Where  would  you  go?  " 

"  Sure,"  replied  the  pig-woman,  slyly,  "  there's 

more  men  than  women  in  the  pines." 
[178] 


CHAPTER  TEN 


CHAPTER  X 

PROFESSOR  DALE  did  not  return  at  nine 
o'clock.  In  truth,  the  shadows  of  the  pines 
fell  far  to  eastward  across  the  clearing  be 
fore  his  watching  daughter  caught  the  first  glimpse 
of  the  huggy  down  the  long  vista  of  the  road  from 
Thebes;  and  then  it  was  much  too  late  for  Mr. 
Ramsey  to  meet  his  appointments  in  the  village. 

"  It  must  be  father,"  Myra  speculated.  "  But 
there  is  something  sticking  up  like  the  smoke-stack 
of  a  locomotive.  I  wonder  if  he  could  have  made 
an  automobile?  " 

"Lord!"  ejaculated  Mr.  Ramsey,  anxiously. 
"  Don't  you  see  any  horse  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  his  white  mane  is  bobbing  up  and 
down,  but  the  other  is  the  strangest  thing  I  ever 
saw." 

"  Perhaps  it  is  some  sort  of  auxiliary  power," 
suggested  Mrs.  Dale. 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Then  I  wish  he  would  put  it  on,"  rejoined  the 
agent.  "  I  might  catch  one  man  yet." 

But  the  Professor  did  not  hurry,  and  minutes 
passed  before  the  watchers  could  distinguish  that 
he  sat  behind  a  giant  cone  of  shining  metal,  with 
an  arm  on  either  side.  Occasionally  his  head  ap 
peared,  observant  of  the  horse;  but,  for  the  most 
part,  he  seemed  to  leave  the  burden  of  responsi 
bility  upon  the  shoulders  of  that  sagacious  beast. 
He  did  not  attempt  to  steer  the  buggy  through  the 
stumps,  but,  halting  in  the  track,  called  out  in 
visibly  : 

"  Someone  come  here  and  lift  this  out,  and  please 
be  very  careful." 

The  cone,  which  proved  to  be  of  tin,  was  light 
in  weight,  and  required  only  skill  on  Mr.  Ramsey's 
part  to  reach  the  ground  in  safety.  Once  there,  it 
rose  above  the  agent's  head,  and  its  diameter  must 
have  caused  inconvenience  to  anyone  undertaking 
to  drive  astride  of  it  for  eight  miles. 

"  If  I  am  a  trifle  late,"  observed  the  Professor, 

sinking  back  upon  the  seat,  "  it  is  the  fault  of 

Bickle.     He  contracted  to  finish  his  work  before 

eleven ;  and,  although  at  noon  it  was  still  incomplete, 

[182] 


CHAPTER     TEN 

he  went  to  dinner,  and  remained  an  hour.  It  has 
taken  me  two  hours  to  make  the  journey,  and  I  fear 
my  legs  are  permanently  disabled." 

"  Perhaps  a  little  walk  would  limber  them  up," 
suggested  Mr.  Ramsey,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"  I  shall  not  be  able  to  walk  for  several  days," 
answered  the  Professor.  "  When  I  have  rested  ten 
or  fifteen  minutes,  I  fancy  a  hot  foot-bath  may  be 
beneficial." 

"  But  you  cannot  take  a  bath  in  the  middle  of 
the  road,"  protested  his  wife ;  and  Myra  added : 

"  I  think  Mr.  Ramsey  is  anxious  to  get  back  to 
town." 

"  We  must  insist  upon  Mr.  Ramsey's  remaining 
to  supper,"  said  her  father,  rubbing  the  inner 
sinews  of  his  thigh  with  great  deliberation. 
"  Myra,  be  careful  not  to  upset  the  vibraphone." 

"  So  that's  a  vibraphone !  "  said  Mr.  Ramsey. 
"What  does  it  do?  " 

"  When  I  have  adjusted  it  to  record  the  vibration 
of  wind  among  the  pine-trees,"  replied  the  scientist,' 
"  it  will,  I  hope,  enable  us  to  detect  atmospheric 
changes  hitherto  unnoted." 

"  Are  you  not  afraid  it  may  be  injured  by  the 
[183] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
damp?  "  suggested  Myra.     "  I  am  sure  Mr.  Ram 
sey  will  help  us  take  it  to  the  workshop,  if  you  will 
show  us  where  it  is  to  stand." 

"  Presently,  my  child,  presently,"  replied  the 
Professor,  putting  a  cautious  foot  beyond  the 
buggy,  and,  when  the  agent  sprang  to  help  him,  at 
once  drawing  it  back. 

"  Are  all  these  bundles  yours?  "  asked  Mrs.  Dale, 
the  first  to  discover  that  the  body  of  the  vehicle  was 
replete  with  packages. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Professor ;  "  a  few  needed  ar 
ticles." 

"  Dear  me !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale,  with  excitement. 
"What  are  they?" 

"  Presently,  my  dear,  presently,"  replied  the 
Professor,  bending  to  massage  his  calves.  In  this' 
he  found  himself  encumbered  by  a  particularly  cor 
pulent  package,  which,  to  dispose  of,  he  handed  to 
his  daughter,  saying: 

"  A  dress  for  you,  Myra." 

"  For  me,  father?     Oh,  thank  you." 

"  Why  not  get  out,"  suggested  Mrs.  Dale,  "  and 
let  us  attend  to  the  bundles  ?  " 

"  Presently,   my   dear,"   replied  the   Professor ; 

66  presently." 

[184] 


CHAPTER     TEN 

"  Perhaps,"  ventured  Mr.  Ramsey,  "  it  would  be 
easier  to  take  the  things  out  from  behind."  And, 
adopting  the  suggestion,  the  three  began  forth 
with  to  jetsam  cargo,  till  the  chips  were  hidden 
beneath  an  assortment  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  a  juggler's  hat — two  hams,  a  roll  of  oil-cloth,  a 
can  of  kerosene,  another  of  varnish,  one  box  of 
ginger-snaps,  eight  packages  of  possibilities,  two 
of  mysteries,  three  of  dubiousnesses,  a  bunch  of 
bananas,  naked  and  not  ashamed,  and,  finally,  a 
chromo-lithograph  of  a  steamer  entering  the  port 
of  Havre. 

"  That  last  was  a  present  from  the  agent  of  the 
line,"  explained  the  Professor,  nursing  his  knees. 

"  I  should  hope  so,"  said  his  wife,  with  feeling. 

"  Mr.  Ramsey,  I  am  going  to  ask  you  a  question, 
and  I  want  you  to  answer  truthfully,"  said  Myra, 
a  few  minutes  later.  "  Have  you  lent  father  any 
money  ?  " 

She  stood  at  the  horse's  head,  administering 
sugar  and  regarding,  as  she  spoke,  a  small,  unsat 
isfactory  daguerreotype  of  herself  in  his  sagacious 
eye.  The  Professor  had  gone  limping  to  the  house, 
and  there,  also,  was  Mrs.  Dale,  heating  water  for 
[  185  I 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
the  bath.    Mr.  Ramsey,  having  shaken  out  the  lap- 
robe,  was  folding  it  again. 

"  Why,  whatever  put  that  notion  in  your  head?  " 
he  asked,  evasively,  holding  a  portion  of  the  robe 
beneath  his  chin. 

"  I  wish  you  had  not,"  she  rejoined,  without 
looking  at  him.  "  It  was  kind  of  you,  of  course, 
and  father  has  treated  you  very  badly  in  being  so 
late." 

"  Please  don't  say  that,"  he  pleaded,  tossing  the 
folded  robe  upon  the  buggy-seat  ind  coming  nearer. 
"  It  makes  me  feel  I  must  have  been  rude,  and  I 
know  it  was  not  his  fault." 

"  You  have  been  far  too  good  to  us,"  she  went 
on,  forcing  a  lump  of  sugar  between  the  horse's 
large  teeth,  closed  coquettishly  against  it.  "  We 
are  a  horrid,  ungrateful  lot — all  of  us." 

u  Miss  Myra,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey,  "  I  haven't  done 
a  thing  but  what  I'd  gladly  do  again  a  thousand 
times,  God  knows." 

"  You  have  done  for  us  more  than  anyone  else 
in  the  world  has  done,"  the  girl  declared,  in  a  pas 
sion  of  self-humiliation.     "  You  took  us  from  the 
very  door  of  the  poorhouse ;  you  have  sheltered  us, 
[186] 


CHAPTER     TEN 

and  fed  us,  and  now  you  have  given  us  money  that 
we  can  never,  never  pay  back  to  you." 

"  Pshaw !  "  cried  the  agent,  with  an  effort  at 
unconcern.  "  That  was  an  every-day  affair  between 
friends.  I'm  not  worrying  about  getting  it  back 
from  a  man  that  can  make  such  inventions." 

"  You  don't  think  so,  really,"  she  interrupted. 
"  Look  at  that  ridiculous  tin  thing  there.  Part 
went  for  that,  and  part  for  a  dress  for  me.  How 
you  must  despise  us !  " 

"  You  hadn't  ought  to  put  such  thoughts  on  me," 
he  protested.  "  It  isn't  fair." 

There  were  tears  in  her  eyes  as  she  turned  to 
him — drops  from  the  river  of  Lethe,  to  have  washed 
from  a  much  meaner  soul  the  memory  of  weightier 
obligations. 

"  You  are  a  good  man,"  she  said,  simply,  "  and 
I  admire  you  very  much." 

"  You  can't  do  that,"  he  answered,  huskily. 
"  There's  not  much  in  me  you  can  admire." 

"  Indeed,  indeed,  there  is,"  she  said.  "  I  admire 
your  generosity  and  your  courage  in  standing  up 
for  what  you  think  is  right,  and  your  pluck  in 
facing  the  pig-man." 

f  187  J 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Don't  make  fun  of  me,"  he  begged,  coming  so 
close  to  her  that  she  could  see  that  the  end  of  his 
nose  was  peeling  from  exposure  to  the  sun  and  wind, 
and  despised  herself  for  seeing  it. 

"  I  mean  it,"  she  said,  turning  away.  "  I  mean 
every  word  of  it." 

It  was  the  impulse  of  a  woman  who,  when  she 
pays  at  all,  pays  many  times  the  debt ;  and  it  might 
have  carried  her  even  farther  had  Mr.  Ramsey  been 
a  man  of  daring.  But  Mr.  Ramsey  was  not  a  man 
of  daring — at  least,  not  then. 

"  I  guess  if  you  mean  as  much  as  I'd  like  to  have 
you  mean,  you  wouldn't  let  me  know  it,"  he 
ventured. 

"  And  why  shouldn't  I  let  you  know  that  we  are 
very  much  obliged  to  you?"  demanded  Myra, 
dropping  several  lumps  of  sugar. 

"  If  I  thought — "  began  the  agent,  taking  heart 
too  late  by  sixty  seconds. 

"  I  mustn't  keep  you  waiting,"  she  exclaimed, 
remembering  his  engagements.  "-Good-night!  " 

But  Mr.  Ramsey  did  not  appear  inclined  to  go. 

"  Please  wait  another  minute,  if  you  can,"  he 
said.  "  There  is  something  I  want  to  ask  yor  as  a 
f  188  1 


CHAPTER     TEN 

favour.      Don't  have  anything   more   to  do  with 
those  pinelanders." 

"Why  not?"  she  asked. 

"Because  I  am  going  to  have  them  hunted  out 
of  where  they  are,  and  they  are  more  than  likely  to 
get  ugly.  I  have  got  all  the  evidence  I  want;  so 
if  you'll  just  keep  near  this  house  for  a  while  till 
they're  gone " 

"Gone?"  Myra  repeated.  "But  where  can 
they  go?" 

"  That's  their  lookout — anywhere  away  from 
here." 

"  But,  Mr.  Ramsey,"  she  protested,  "  they  have 
nowhere  to  go.  Can't  you  warn  them,  and  let  them 
have  another  chance  ?  " 

"  Not  much,"  he  assured  her,  laughing.  "  I've 
got  my  chance  to  get  them  off  the  land,  and  that  is 
more  than  I  hoped  for." 

For  a  moment  she  regarded  him  in  silence.  Then 
she  said :  "  Mr.  Ramsey,  do  you  want  me  ever  to 
speak  to  you  again  ?  If  you  do,  you  must  let  these 
people  know  that  they  will  not  be  molested  as  long 
as  they  do  nothing  wrong.  You  may  scold  them 
as  much  as  you  please,  and  threaten  them ;  but  you 
I  1891 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
must   not  drive  them   from   the   only   home   they 
have." 

"  Oh,  come ! "  cried  Mr.  Ramsey,  reddening. 
"  You  hadn't  ought  to  ask  me  that.  I'm  here  in 
the  interests  of  the  company.  Of  course,  if  it  was 
a  question  of  giving  them  time  to  find  another 
place » 

"No,  no!"  Myra  interrupted.  "They  could 
never  do  that ;  they  would  merely  become  tramps 
and  outcasts.  I  don't  know  what  would  happen  to 
them.  You  must  leave  them  where  they  are,  Mr. 
Ramsey ;  you  must  really — for  my  sake." 

And,  in  the  end,  she  had  his  promise  to  be  lenient 
with  the  pig-people;  and  Mr.  Ramsey,  driving 
homeward  through  the  long  pine  lanes,  whistled 
softly  to  himself,  as  a  man  when  he  has  sacrificed  a 
principle  and  rejoices.  And  Myra,  seated  on  a 
stump,  reflected  on  the  potentiality  of  the  intan 
gible,  until  Uranus,  the  black  cat,  leaping  to  her 
lap,  suggested  supper-time. 

"  Be  'umble,  Ury,  be  'umble,"  she  admonished 
him,  and  laughed  to  recall  that  Mr.  Ramsey  had 
recognised  the  name  as  that  of  one  Uranus  Heep,  in 
Dickens. 

[190] 


CHAPTER     TEN 

In  the  house  she  found  that  her  father  had  al 
ready  gone  to  bed  for  needed  rest,  and  that  her 
mother  had  a  headache.  Mrs.  Dale  always  had  a 
headache  when  a  certain  manuscript,  entitled 
"  Spirits  in  Prison,"  came  back,  and  this  was  one 
of  those  occasions. 

"Was  there  nothing  else  in  the  mail?"  Myra 
asked,  indifferently. 

"  No,"  said  her  mother.     "  Nothing  else." 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 


CHAPTER  XI 

"  ~^X  M"  YRA,"  said  Mrs.  Dale  one  evening,  as 
\/  |  the  two  walked  together  under  the 
pines,  "  I  am  very  much  troubled." 

They  had  chosen  the  direction  toward  the  Ocean 
Road,  where  there  was  a  line  of  telegraph  poles  to 
look  at;  besides,  Murray,  the  fishman,  on  his  sea 
ward  way»  occasionally  left  a  newspaper  for  the 
Professor  beneath  a  certain  tree.  And  they  walked 
briskly,  for  the  air  was  chilly  with  the  dampness  of 
a  coming  storm. 

"  Troubled  about  what?  "  inquired  Myra,  with 
out  grave  concern. 

"  About  my  story  in  the  Inglenook"  sighed  Mrs. 
Dale.  "  They  have  a  cut  of  Gustavus  Adolphus 
that  they  want  to  use,  and  I  don't  know  anything 
about  him.  And  I  had  planned  to  fill  up  my  next 
article  with  different  ways  of  cooking  reed-birds. 
[195] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
Dear  me!  there  is  someone  coming.     Who  can  it 
be?" 

"  Why,  it  must  be  my  friend,  the  pig-woman," 
Myra  answered,  divining  an  approaching  figure, 
well  -  nigh  indistinguishable  in  the  gathering 
shadows. 

"  How  very  interesting ! "  cried  her  mother. 
"  Perhaps  we  can  get  her  to  tell  us  the  story  of  her 
life." 

"  No,  no !  "  protested  Myra.  "  Let  us  just  speak 
pleasantly,  and  pass  on.  I  am  sure  she  does  not 
want  to  be  seen." 

"  That's  not  surprising,"  commented  Mrs.  Dale. 
"  I  never  saw  anyone  so  untidy." 

The  pig-woman,  who  had  a  bag  upon  her  back, 
walked  with  her  head  at  the  level  of  her  shoulders. 
She  had  added  to  her  former  costume  a  distorted 
black  straw-hat,  whereon  one  red  cotton  rose  hung 
nodding  from  a  wire  stem.  At  first  she  seemed  to 
be  alone,  but  as  she  drew  nearer  Aleck  became  vis 
ible,  following  sullenly  behind.  Since  the  coming 
of  colder  weather  his  freedom  of  movement  had  been 
much  curtailed  by  a  man's  felt  hat  and  boots  too 
large  by  many  sizes.  He  carried  in  his  arms  a  large 
[1961 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

stone  jug,  which  must  have  been  heavy,  for,  when  it 
became  evident  that  Mam  intended  to  stop,  he  set 
it  down  with  a  grunt  of  satisfaction. 

"  Myra,  you  will  have  to  do  the  talking,"  whis 
pered  Mrs.  Dale.  "  I  never  know  what  to  say  to 
such  people,  and  I  must  confess  I  don't  like  her 
looks." 

"  Oh,  you  needn't  be  afraid !  "  returned  Myra, 
confidently.  "  She  will  be  only  too  anxious  to  avoid 
us." 

"  What  do  you  suppose  she  has  in  that  bag?  " 

"  Potatoes,  probably.  She  may  have  been  to  the 
house  of  some  other  pinelander  to  exchange  pork 
for  them.  That  is  the  way  they  live." 

The  woman,  now  within  five  yards  across  the 
narrow  track,  stood  still,  and  seemed  to  see  them  for 
the  first  time ;  but,  though  she  dropped  the  bag  and 
straightened  herself,  her  sole  response  to  Myra's 
amiable  "  Good-evening  "  was  a  slight  protruding 
of  the  tongue. 

"  Good-evening !  "  repeated  Myra,  but  this  time 
with  a  trifle  more  reserve. 

"  Oh,  I  heard  you,"  retorted  the  pig-woman,  in 
solently  composed,  and  rubbing  her  sides  with  the 

r  197] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
palms  of  her  hands,  as  though  the  muscles  had 
grown  stiff,  while  she  looked  to  left  and  right,  as 
though  to  estimate  the  chances  of  intrusion. 
"  Pretty  evening  for  a  walk,"  she  then  remarked, 
deliberately  surveying  the  others  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Yes,"  Myra  answered,  not  without  uneasiness ; 
"  it  is  quite  pleasant.  Won't  you  sit  down  and 
rest?  " 

"  Not  this  evening,  thank  you,"  said  the  pig- 
woman;  "  I  might  muss  me  dress.  But  you  just 
keep  quiet  a  minute,  and  I'll  tell  you  something- — 
I'll  tell  you  what  I  thinks  of  you,  and  the  likes  of 
you." 

The  voice  had  in  it  an  ominous  calm,  and  Myra, 
scenting  mischief,  stepped  closer  to  her  mother; 
but  before  she  could  speak,  the  woman  went  on: 

"  Thought  you'd  be  neighbourly,  didn't  you? 
Wanted  to  buy  a  pig  ?  Wanted  to  educate  other 
folk's  kids,  and  make  a  dude  of  the  old  man?  Oh, 
but  you're  a  charmer!  You're  a  Little  Eva  from 
the  original  cast !  "  The  pig-woman,  a  mistress  of 
the  art  of  subtle  irony,  seemed  for  a  time  content 
to  veil  her  meaning  in  symbolic  phrases.  But  sud 
denly  her  manner  changed.  It  was  as  though, 
[198] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

having  played  a  prelude,  she,  by  pulling  out  the 
stops,  developed  all  at  once  the  power  of  her  in 
strument  in  a  resounding  anthem  of  vituperation. 

"  Spy !  "  she  shouted.  "  Informer !  Sneak !  " 
and,  having  run  the  gamut  of  admissible  synonyms, 
added  others,  picturesque  and  forcible,  culled  from 
the  argot  of  two  continents — the  aphorisms  of  Hoi- 
born,  the  shibboleths  of  Mulberry  Bend — till 
Myra's  feeble  efforts  to  check  her  were  overpowered 
by  a  torrent  of  invective. 

"  Come,  mother,"  Myra  whispered.  "  Let  us  go 
back." 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  an 
swered  the  little  woman,  drawing  herself  to  her  full 
height. 

Myra  glanced  down  the  road,  in  the  vain  hope  of 
seeing  Murray,  the  fishman,  and  the  look  seemed  to 
delight  the  pig-woman. 

"  Arrah !  "  she  cried.  "  It's  looking  after  your 
feller,  you  are,  or  maybe  for  your  friend  the  sheriff. 
Sure,  when  I  was  young  I  didn't  have  to  look  far  to 
see  a  man.  But  I  was  no  mean,  little  red-headed 
spy.  I  was  a  lady,  if  I  was  a  sport."  Her  char 
acterisations  of  herself  were  free  and  striking,  as 
[1991 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
were  other  words  which  followed ;  but  language  has 
its  limits,  and  the  anger  of  the  pig-woman  neared 
the  boiling-point.  "Take  that!  and  that!"  she 
cried ;  and,  stooping,  caught  from  her  bag  a  hand 
ful  of  potatoes,  which  she  hurled  at  the  objects  of 
her  wrath  with  such  accuracy  of  aim  that  one  struck 
a  tree  not  far  above  Mrs.  Dale's  head. 

"  Stop ! "  cried  Myra,  darting  to  shield  her 
mother.  "  Stop !  You  will  hurt  us." 

"  Small  blame  to  me  if  I  do !  "  laughed  the  pig- 
woman,  as  another  potato  broke  into  fragments 
against  a  stump.  "  It's  you  that's  lucky  that  I'm 
not  myself." 

"  Boy,  stop  her ! "  commanded  Mrs.  Dale. 
"Hold  her  hands!" 

The  order  had  its  effect,  for  Aleck,  till  then  a 
dumb  spectator  of  the  scene,  sprang  forward  and 
caught  the  woman  by  the  wrist. 

"  Leave  hold  of  me,  you  little  baste !  "  she  yelled, 
fiercely,  trying  to  shake  him  off. 

"  Drop  it !  "  he  growled,  clinging  fast.  "  Drop 
it,  I  tell  yer!" 

There  followed  a  scuffle,  in  which  Aleck  gained 
possession  of  the  sack ;  but,  though  he  clung  to  it 
[  200  J 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

with  the  tenacity  of  a  terrier,  covering  the  prize 
with  his  body,  it  was  improbable  that  the  advantage 
could  be  of  long  duration. 

"  Skin  out,  Myradale,  skin  out !  "  he  shouted. 
"  Get  away  before  she  has  me  killed."  And  dignity, 
giving  place  to  self-preservation,  Mrs.  Dale  con 
sented  to  retire.  As  they  went,  the  woman  called 
after  them : 

"  Say,  come  again  whenever  you've  got  nothing 
else  to  do !  Neighbours  ought  to  be  sociable." 

"  If  ever  I  have  a  fury  to  describe,"  panted  Mrs. 
Dale,  "  I  shall  know  just  how  she  ought  to  look." 

They  had  hurried  down  the  path  to  what  seemed 
to  be  a  safe  distance.  Glancing  back,  Myra  could 
see  the  woman  and  boy  picking  up  the  spilled  po 
tatoes  amicably  enough. 

"  But,  mother,  were  not  you  afraid  of  her?  "  the 
girl  asked.  She  had  never  seen  her  parent  under 
fire  before. 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  Mrs.  Dale.  "  I  was  so 
glad  to  be  reminded  of  potatoes." 

"Of  potatoes?" 

"  Why,  yes ;  the  inspiration  came  to  me  at  once. 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  during  one  of  his  campaigns, 
[201] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
was  approached  by  an  orderly,  who  said :  '  Sire, 
the  enemy  has  captured  all  our  cooking  utensils ;  we 
have  some  reed-birds  and  some  potatoes,  but  not  a 
pannikin  remains.'  At  this  the  king,  who  never 
missed  an  opportunity  to  give  his  officers  a  lesson, 
cried :  '  Fool !  put  a  reed-bird  in  each  potato,  and 
cook  them  in  the  ashes.  Never  let  a  soldier  of  mine 
admit  that  he  is  crippled  by  the  foe ! '  Of  course, 
I  can  go  on  from  that.  I  shall  call  the  dish  '  Reed- 
birds  a  la  Leipsic.' ' 

"  Mother,"  cried  Myra,  reverently,  "  I  consider 
that  your  masterpiece !  " 

At  the  Ocean  Road,  when  they  had  found  the 
Thebes  Weekly  Clarion  under  the  tree,  Myra  sug 
gested  that  they  should  go  a  little  farther. 

"  I  have  discovered  a  mystery,"  she  said.  "  One 
of  the  telegraph  poles  is  striped  red  and  white  half 
way  up." 

"Dear  me!" 

"  And  there  is  an  inscription  upon  it." 

"  Really?    What  does  it  say?  " 

"  It  is  rather  indistinct,  but  I  made  out  the 
words — 

"'Shave,  Five  Cents;  with  Bay  Rum,  Ten 
Cents.1  " 

[  202  ] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

"  How  very  singular !  What  can  it  mean,  so  far 
from  any  house  ?  " 

"  Murray,  the  fishman,  says  the  poles  were  used 
in  some  city,  till  they  made  a  law  forbidding  their 
use,  and  then  they  were  brought  here." 

"  That  is  not  very  much  of  a  mystery." 

"  Perhaps  not,  mother ;  but  to  me  it  is  a  poem. 
Fancy  the  poor  old  pole  brought  back  to  the  forest 
again,  with  all  the  scars  of  its  ignoble  service  in  the 
world.  Think  of  the  things  it  must  dream  of  here 
alone — the  muddy  street,  the  barber-shop,  the 
waggons  going  past,  and  all  the  bustle  of  a  squalid 
neighbourhood.  How  it  must  hate  these  silly  little 
saplings,  who  are  only  green  because  they  happen 
to  have  roots !  " 

"  Myra,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Dale.  "  What  are 
you  talking  about?" 

"  About  the  telegraph-pole,  mother,"  replied 
Myra.  "  But  I  am  thinking  of  the  pig-woman." 

Though  they  did  not  see  the  pig-woman  again  for 
many  days,  the  wind  seemed  charged  with  warnings 
of  her  stealthy,  waddling  step  throughout  the  week 
of  rain  that.followed.  For  the  Indian  summer  had 
gone — the  time  of  mellow  light  and  violet  shadow 
[  203  ] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
— and  in  its  place  came  autumn,  bleak  and  desolate. 
Mist  in  the  morning,  rain  at  noon — mist  and  rain 
and  winds  that  roared  among  the  pine,  till,  with 
spray  upon  the  face  from  the  opened  door,  one 
might  have  fancied  the  sound  of  deep-sea  combers 
rolling  from  the  east. 

Once,  when  the  storm  had  lifted  for  an  hour, 
Myra,  in  rubbers,  ventured  as  far  as  the  pit.  But 
here  she  found  her  garden  desolate,  and  remained 
only  long  enough  to  secure  the  slamming  cabin-door. 
Of  the  children  she  saw  nothing,  but  for  several 
mornings  a  heap  of  pine-cones  was  found  upon  the 
kitchen  step.  And  the  home-made  caramels  left 
there — in  a  tomato-can — by  way  of  acknowledg 
ment,  disappeared  regularly.  One  day  the  empty 
can  contained  a  smooth  chip,  on  which  were  scrawled 
in  charcoal  the  words  "  Gud  Bi."  And  after  that 
there  were  no  more  cones. 

During  the  slowly  passing  days  the  Professor 
worked  upon  his  vibraphone,  or  discoursed  upon 
the  great  disaster  which  should  come  with  the  con 
junction  of  Saturn  and  Uranus,  on  January  6th, 
his  interest  in  the  invention  doing  much  to  set  at 
naught  his  own  forebodings.  Mrs.  Dale,  discover- 
[  204  ] 


CHAPTER     ELEVEN 

ing  that  the  "  Spirits  in  Prison  "  needed  polishing, 
polished  industriously.  Myra  made  a  dress,  and 
devised  a  planet — a  pleasant  planet,  filled  with 
pleasant  people,  where  pine  children  wore  sailor- 
suits  and  pig-women  kept  boarders,  and  inventions 
could  be  patented  without  a  fee,  and  gentlemen  in 
gray  said  "  So !  " 

Once,  when  the  rain  beat  on  the  window  and  the 
shutter  rattled  in  her  small  room  beneath  the  eaves, 
and  it  had  grown  too  dark  to  see  her  thread,  she 
said: 

"  Come,  Uranus ;  it  is  time  to  rest  ourselves. 
That  little  box  there  on  the  table,  if  you  please. 
And  now  a  match;  and  don't  forget  your  part, 
'  Ron-ron ! '  " 


[205] 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 


CHAPTER  XII 

THANKSGIVING-DAY  brought  back  the 
south  wind  and  the  sun,  and  in  the  pine- 
land   only  the   green,   new-fallen   needles, 
strewn  above  the  brown,  told  of  the  days  of  storm 
and  wind.    Mr.  Ramsey  was  expected  to  mark  the 
festival  by  dining  at  Pineopolis  at  some  vague  hour 
in   the   afternoon;   but,   otherwise,   Thanksgiving 
promised  to  be  much  like  any  other  day. 

Myra,  who  had  heard  nothing  from  her  pine  chil 
dren  since  the  message  of  the  chip,  stood  calling 
them  beside  the  pool ; 

"  Aleck !  Sis !  Come  here,  I  have  something  for 
you !  " 

Her  work-bag  hung  from  her  arm,  distended  to 
the  bursting-point ;  and  the  fear  that  it  might  go 
back  unemptied  gave  a  supplicating  cadence  to  her 
voice. 

"  Come,  don't  you  hear  me  ?    Come !  "  she  called 
[209] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
again.  And  presently  the  forest  gave  an  answer. 
Not  Aleck's  imitation  of  an  owl,  nor  Sis's  rendering 
of  the  crow's  caw,  though  something  that  the  pines 
had  heard  before — an  Alpine  yodel,  so  loud  and 
clear  and  unmistakable  that  Myra  caught  her 
breath.  Once  more  it  came,  this  time  initiative,  and 
demanding  a  response ;  and  Myra,  as  she  answered, 
scarcely  knew  what  she  did,  for  the  impossible  had 
come  to  pass. 

What  happened  was  just  what  should  have  hap 
pened,  and  after  the  manner  in  which  things  would 
always  happen  if  left  to  follow  reasonable  laws; 
and,  when  a  horseman  issued  from  the  forest,  Myra 
was  not  really  very  much  surprised.  He  was  a  tall, 
brown  horseman  on  a  tall,  brown  horse,  who  leaped 
some  intervening  shrubs,  and  seemed  to  know  ex 
actly  where  to  stop. 

"  Good-morning,  Mr.  Christensen,"  said  Myra, 
holding  out  her  hand;  and  Mr.  Christensen,  who 
was  already  on  his  feet,  uncovered  his  blond  head 
and  took  the  hand.  He  made  no  pretence  of  sur 
prise  at  meeting  her,  and  expressed  no  conventional 
pleasure. 

"Have  you  been  quite  well?"  he  asked;  and, 
[210] 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 

being  answered,  led  his  horse  to  a  tree,  loosened  the 
girth,  and  made  the  bridle  fast. 

"  I  lost  my  way,"  he  said,  rejoining  her,  as 
though  the  hour  of  his  coming  had  been  under 
stood.  "  And  but  for  two  small  children  I  don't 
know  where  I  should  have  wandered." 

"  Children !  "  exclaimed  Myra.  "  Where  were 
they?  What  were  they  doing?  " 

"  I  met  them  about  a  mile  from  here,"  he  told 
her,  "  and  they  appeared  to  be  on  guard  beside  the 
trail.  When  they  saw  me  they  ran,  and  I  was  forced 
to  gallop  after  them  for  my  information ;  but,  when 
it  came,  it  was  most  satisfactory." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Myra,  colouring. 

"  And  may  we  not  sit  down?  "  he  asked.  "  Just 
as  we  did  before ;  and  will  not  you  look  exactly  as 
you  did  that  day  ?  " 

"  I  can't  do  that,"  she  answered,  laughing.  "  I 
have  a  new  dress." 

"  So !  "  said  Mr.  Christensen.  "  That  makes  no 
difference." 

"  It  does  to  me,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Christensen,  upon  the  ground,  thrust  his 
spurs  into  the  needles,  and  laid  his  hat  beside  them. 

"  I  trust  that  Mrs.  Dale  is  well,"  he  said. 
[211] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  Myra  responded ;  "  and  so  is 
my  father,  and  so  is  Mr.  Ramsey,  I  believe.  I  sup 
pose  you  saw  him  in  Thebes  ?  " 

"  Naturally  you  suppose  so,  knowing  my  regard 
for  that  gentleman ;  but,  as  it  happens,  I  have  not 
been  in  Thebes,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  provoking 
want  of  frankness. 

"  I  forgot  that  the  colony  has  been  given  up," 
she  explained. 

"  Yes ;  the  colony  has  gone  to  Tennessee,  most 
fortunately  for  the  pines." 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Myra,  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"  Well,  what  ?  "  he  demanded,  calmly. 

"  Well,  suppose  I  should  appear  from  the  moon 
on  horseback,  would  you  have  no  curiosity  ?  " 

"  Not  I ;  the  fact  would  be  sufficient.  Do  you 
know  Morgantown  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  it  is  about  twenty  miles  from  here." 

"  Twelve,  only,"  he  corrected  her.  "  I  have  a 
friend  who  cultivates  colts  near  there,  and,  know 
ing  my  fondness  for  colts,  he  invited  me  to  pass  the 
holiday  with  him  and  them.  This  morning  we  were 
to  see  them  jump,  but,  instead,  I  stole  a  colt  and 
rode  away — a  rather  dishonest  proceeding,  was  it 

not?  » 

[  212  1 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 

"Very,"  assented  Myra.  "What  excuse  will 
you  make  when  you  get  back  ?  " 

"  I  must  rely  on  you  to  help  me  find  one." 

"  On  me?  My  suggestion  would  be  of  very  little 
use." 

"  We  have  a  saying  in  Sweden,"  he  remarked, 
laughing — "  '  Ask  a  child  to  pray  for  you,  a  be 
ginner  to  play  for  you,  and  a  girl  to  guide  you.'  " 

"  A  very  foolish  proverb — even  for  Sweden,"  she 
commented.  "  Girls  have  very  little  judgment — 
they  are  always  doing  the  silliest  possible  things." 

"  So?  "  he  rejoined.  "  And  what  have  you  been 
doing?" 

Myra,  taking  up  a  handful  of  green  needles,  be 
gan  to  weave  a  chain  with  them. 

"  My  opportunities  for  doing  even  silly  things 
are  very  limited,"  she  said. 

Mr.  Christensen,  with  other  needles,  made  an  ex 
periment  upon  his  own  account. 

"  And  that  is  why  you  pass  your  time  amusing 
little  ragged  children,"  he  speculated. 

"  I  am  afraid  they  find  me  anything  but  amus 
ing,"  she  answered,  flushing,  "  for  they  have  not 
been  near  me  for  days." 

[213] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

When  she  had  told  him  something  of  the  pig- 
man  and  his  wife,  and  the  pineland  generally,  he 
said: 

"  All  that  would  interest  my  uncle  very  much. 
He  is  a  student  of  sociology." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Myra. 

"  Yes ;  if  he  had  remained  at  home  he  would 
have  been  in  prison  long  ago." 

"  Really  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  should  be  proud  to 
have  a  relative  like  him." 

"  My  uncle  bade  me  express  to  you  his  high  re 
gard,"  said  Mr.  Christensen,  so  simply  that  Myra 
took  this  for  a  formal  civility  not  unusual  in 
Sweden. 

"  That  is  a  beautiful  horse,"  she  observed,  some 
what  hurriedly.  "  But  don't  you  think  he  must  be 
thirsty?" 

"  I  had  forgotten  all  about  him,"  the  horseman 
confessed,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  I  meant  to  let 
him  cool  off  a  little  first;  but  you  are  more  kind- 
hearted." 

"  I  am  not  in  the  least  kind-hearted,"  she  pro 
tested;  "  it  was  just  a  selfish  wish  to  pat  his  nose." 

As  the  colt  stood  fetlock  deep  in  the  cool  water, 
[214] 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 
Myra,  contrasting  his  shapely  limbs  with  others 
more  familiar,  said : 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  have  chosen  the  prettiest 
of  the  colts." 

"  Then  you  must  some  day  allow  me  to  choose  one 
for  you,"  said  Mr.  Christensen,  so  seriously  that 
Myra  laughed. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  promised ;  "  whenever  I  buy  a 
horse,  you  shall  give  me  your  advice." 

Mr.  Christensen  appeared  unreasonably  grati 
fied. 

"  I  hope  that  will  be  soon,"  he  said ;  and  the  colt 
regarded  both  with  approbation. 

When  Mr.  Christensen  had  explained  that  the 
animal  should  have  at  least  another  half-hour's 
rest,  they  went  back  to  the  knoll  again,  and  re 
sumed  the  making  of  needle-chains.  If  he  had 
merely  stolen  a  mount  to  break  a  dull  day  at  the 
Morgantown  paddocks  it  had  been  nice  of  him  to 
remember  his  acquaintances  in  the  pines,  and  he 
appeared  to  consider  this  so  much  a  matter  of 
course  that  Myra  forgot  she  had  forbidden  him  to 
come.  They  were  such  old  friends  now  on  this, 
their  second  meeting,  that  the  follies  of  the  first 
[215] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
were    forgotten— even    the   necessity    of    talking, 
which  is  the  highest  bar  that  friendship  has  to  leap. 

Her  fingers  idly  added  link  upon  link  to  the 
chain,  and  he  watched  her.  Perceiving  that  the 
occupation  satisfied  him,  she  said : 

"  I  think  you  might  suggest  something  amus- 
ing." 

"So?  Well,  let  us  have  a  match.  We  will  start 
even,  and  see  who  can  make  the  longest  chain  in  a 
given  time — say  an  hour — and,  meanwhile,  neither 
one  must  speak  a  word." 

"  If  that  is  your  idea  of  amusement,  it  is  not 
mine,"  she  replied. 

"  Oh,  it  was  only  a  suggestion.  Now  it  is  your 
turn  to  make  one." 

"  I  suggest  that  you  tell  me  what  you  saw  the 
last  time  you  went  to  the  theatre." 

"  That  I  do  not  remember.  But  I  will  tell  you 
something  that  I  did,  if  you  would  care  to  hear." 

"  Please  do." 

"  I  bought  two  seats,  and  pretended  I  was  not 
alone." 

"  That  was  very  extravagant,"  commented  Myra. 

"  But  you  can't  think  how  I  enjoyed  it,  nor  how 

agreeable  my  silent  companion  was." 
[2161 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 

"  I  can  imagine  that  he  must  have  been  delight 
ful  ;  and  then,  too,  you  could  put  your  hat  on  his 
lap  without  appearing  rude." 

"  My  companion  had  a  blue  sun-bonnet  on  her 
lap  already." 

"  Indeed !  She  must  have  dressed  hurriedly," 
remarked  Myra,  with  constraint,  realising  that  Mr. 
Christensen  had  become  occult.  "  If  I  were  you,  I 
should  not  invite  her  again." 

"Is  that  a  girl's  advice?" 

"  Yes ;  it  is  my  advice,"  she  answered,  softly. 
"  You  would  be  awfully  disappointed  in  her  a  sec 
ond  time.  And,  besides," — with  an  almost  imper 
ceptible  lifting  of  the  chin — "  besides,  she  might 
not  accept." 

Presently,  looking  up  at  her  after  a  long,  un 
noted  pause,  he  said : 

"  It  is  very  nice  to  hear  the  trees  again," — as 
though  they  had  heard  them  together  many  times. 

"  Sometimes  I  think  the  pines  are  stupid,"  she 
mused.  "  They  can  only  repeat  the  things  you 
think  aloud — like  rain  or  railway  trains." 

"  Like  my  little  tram  in  Stockholm,"  he  told  her, 
"  which  used  to  sing  when  I  came  back  from  school, 
[2171 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
*  Home  again !     Home  again ! '     The  last  time  I 
heard  it,"  he  added,  "  it  said  only  '  Never  again ! 
Never  again ! ' 

She  gave  him  one  quick  glance  of  sympathy, 
perhaps  meant  less  for  the  self-reliant  man  in  cor 
duroys  than  for  a  little,  fair-haired  boy  who  had 
rejoiced  at  going  home.  She  hoped  they  had  been 
very  good  to  him. 

"  But  you  will  go  back  some  day,"  she  said. 

"  Never  again,  perhaps,"  he  said,  "  unless " 

He  did  not  tell  what  might  occur  to  take  him 
back;  but  she  guessed  that  there  would  be  no  one 
there  to  welcome  him. 

"  No ;  I  shall  never  return  now,"  he  went  on, 
with  a  laugh.  "  I  shall  stay  here  and  be  an 
American — an  American  with  a  ridiculous  foreign 
accent — all  my  life." 

Myra  tossed  her  head. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  secretly  very  proud  of  speak 
ing  English  perfectly." 

"  So !  "  admitted  Mr.  Christensen.  "  But  of  just 
what  to  do  under  all  circumstances  I  am  still  igno 
rant.  There  I  shall  always  be  a  foreigner." 

"  Then  I  should  do  exactly  what  would  be  right 
at  home,"  she  counselled  him. 

r  218 1 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 

"And  that  is  your  advice?"  he  asked,  a  trifle 
seriously,  she  thought,  for  the  occasion ;  but  then 
Mr.  Christensen  was  always  serious. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  laughing ;  "  that  is  a  girl's 
advice." 

"  Thank  you  for  it,"  he  said,  rising ;  "  and  now 
you  must  give  me  my  excuse  for  coming." 

"  Would  it  not  be  enough  to  say  you  went  to 
call  on  an  acquaintance  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  returned.    "  Not  half  enough." 

And  Myra  thought  his  host  must  be  a  most  ex 
acting  man. 

He  stood  beside  his  horse,  the  reins  hung  lightly 
from  his  arm.  She  held  out  her  hand  to  say  good- 
bye. 

"  I  wish  you  a  very  pleasant  ride,"  she  said. 

"  And  I  wish  you  every  happiness  till  we  meet 
again,"  he  answered.  Then,  without  warning,  he 
took  the  small  brown  hand  and  raised  it — scratched 
and  sticky  with  turpentine — to  his  lips  for  an  in 
stant — for  the  briefest  instant — a  usage  foreign  to 
the  pines,  but  perhaps  one  of  those  which  she  had 
advised  him  to  follow  when  in  doubt. 

Mr.  Christensen  was  standing  very  straight,  his 
[2191 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
heels   drawn   close  together,  in  the  manner  of  a 
soldier.    He  had  grown  pale,  she  saw  with  wonder ; 
and,  when  he  spoke  again,  he  had  the  air  of  saying 
something  of  great  importance. 

"  My  homage  to  your  mother,"  he  said,  with  an 
absurdly  formal  bow. 

"  Thank  you,"  Myra  responded,  looking  at  him 
curiously. 

"  And  may  I  bear  a  message  to  my  uncle?  "  he 
inquired,  still  erect. 

"  Of  course,"  she  answered,  in  confusion.  "  Any 
thing  you  think  he  would  like  to  hear." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Christensen,  as  though 
it  were  a  compact. 

Doubtless  this  form  of  leave-taking  was  as  it 
should  have  been  in  Sweden;  but  Myra  thought 
rather  less  of  Sweden  as  he  rode  away. 

At  the  clearing's  edge  he  turned  to  lift  his  hat, 
and  Myra  waved  her  hand.  When  he  had  gone, 
she  watched  a  branch  that  he  had  touched  sway  to 
and  fro,  and  come  at  last  to  rest.  For  a  time  she 
heard  him  speaking  to  his  horse,  checking  his  im 
patience,  guiding  him  through  the  trees,  and,  long 
before  she  had  ceased  to  listen,  there  was  nothing 
[  220  ] 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 
but  the  singing  of  the  pines  to  hear.     She  had  for 
gotten  to  tell  him  of  his  silver  cup  or  to  thank  him 
for  the  cigarettes. 

After  the  open  forest  the  sitting-room  seemed 
dark,  and  a  fire  newly  kindled  on  the  hearth  made 
the  atmosphere  a  trifle  oppressive.  Myra  knew 
that  Mr.  Ramsey  must  be  somewhere  in  the  room, 
for  she  had  seen  the  buggy  in  its  accustomed  place ; 
but  she  did  not  look  for  him. 

"  Dear  me,  Myra,"  said  her  mother,  glancing  up 
from  the  Clarion  of  Thebes,  "  I  had  begun  to  fear 
you  had  met  that  pig-woman  again." 

"  Which  pig-woman?  "  demanded  the  Professor, 
in  a  tone  implying  large  acquaintance  among  pig- 
women. 

Myra  closed  the  door  and  stood  beside  it,  pant 
ing  a  little  from  the  hurry  of  her  walk.  In  her 
hand  she  held  the  fragments  of  her  needle-chain, 
and  her  head  was  bare. 

"  Surely  you  have  not  been  out  without  a  hat  ?  " 
exclaimed  her  mother,  noting  a  deficiency. 

"  Why,  no ;  I  had  my  sun-bonnet.  I  must  have 
dropped  it  somewhere ;  it  was  so  warm." 

"  I  found  it  rather  chilly  driving,"  put  in  Mr. 
[221] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
Ramsey,  from  the  trunk.     He  had  abandoned  hope 
of  direct  recognition. 

"  Yes,  it  must  have  been  cool,"  Myra  admitted, 
coming  forward.  "  Mother,  am  I  too  late  to  help 
with  the  dinner?  " 

"  Why,  child,  it  is  only  twelve  o'clock.  Sit  down 
and  rest  yourself,"  Mrs.  Dale  suggested,  removing 
worsted  from  a  place  beside  her  on  the  sofa.  "  You 
look  quite  feverish.  I  never  saw  your  eyes  so 
bright." 

"  They  are  that,"  assented  Mr.  Ramsey. 

"  Please  don't  rnind  me,  mother,"  protested 
Myra,  •  laughing  nervously.  "  I  am  a  little  out  of 
breath,  but  not  the  least  tired." 

The  Professor  yawned. 

"  Was  there  anything  of  importance  going  on  in 
Thebes  ?  "  he  asked  the  agent,  for  Mr.  Ramsey's 
visit  was  a  social  one,  and  carried  with  it  certain 
social  rights. 

"  Not  much,"  responded  Mr.  Ramsey.  "  You 
remember  that  Swedish  fellow  who  was  here  a  while 
ago?  Somebody  told  me  he  was  in  Morgantown 
last  night.  The}^  saw  him  driving  from  the  station 
with  that  Henty,  who  owns  a  stock-farm.  I  guess 
likely  he  is  looking  for  a  horse." 
[  222  1 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 

"  Can't  you  imagine  visiting  a  friend  without 
wanting  to  buy  anything?  "  demanded  Myra,  some 
what  shortly. 

"  But  I  don't  know  that  they  are  friends,"  pro 
tested  Mr.  Ramsey.  "  I  don't  know  anything  about 
either  of  them,  except  that  Henty  is  richer  than  all 
out  doors,  and  pretty  well  stuck  on  himself.  I  guess 
his  friends  would  be  likely  gilt-edged,  too." 

"  Then  Mr.  Christensen  did  not  strike  you  as 
being  what  you  call  gilt-edged?  " 

"  Well,  hardly !  "  Mr.  Ramsey  chuckled.  "  That 
is,  if  I'm  a  judge.  There's  mighty  few  as  civil- 
spoken  as  he  was  unless  they  have  their  money  still 
to  get." 

"  Generalities !  "  sniffed  the  Professor,  with  a 
gesture  of  deprecation  ;  "worthless  generalities,  that 
disregard  the  basic  facts.  If  Jupiter  be  well 
placed,  %or  in  the  house  of  honour,  a  man  remains 
himself  in  spite  of  opulence;  but  given  Mercury 
afflicted,  Mars  cadent,  or  the  sun  in  Capricorn,  a 
very  little  every-day  advancement  will  destroy  his 
balance.  In  the  higher  socialism,  one  fitted  only  for 
the  lower  walks  of  life  will  be  compelled  to  remain 
there." 

[  223  ] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"I  wonder  how  it  is  with  me?"  laughed  Mr. 
Ramsey.  "  I  don't  know  what  time  of  day  it  was, 
but  I  was  born  on  the  tenth  of  January." 

"  On  that  date,"  said  the  Professor,  "  the  sun  is 
most  undoubtedly  in  Capricorn." 

"  I  think  it  very  rude  to  say  so,"  Mrs.  Dale  in 
terjected. 

"Rude?"  sniffed  the  Professor.  "Do  I  control 
the  zodiac  ?  " 

"  I  guess  all  the  prosperity  I  get  won't  hurt  me 
much,"  remarked  Mr.  Ramsey. 

"  And  so  that  colony  has  gone  to  Tennessee," 
put  in  Myra,  to  divert  the  conversation. 

"  Why,  how  did  you  know  that?  "  inquired  Mr. 
Ramsey.  "  I  only  heard  of  it  myself  this  morning, 
through  a  letter  from  Colonel  Blunt." 

"  Possibly  an  instance  of  thought  transference," 
speculated  Myra ;  and  Mr.  Ramsey  moved  uneasily. 

"  I  never  took  much  stock  in  Christian  Science," 
he  observed.  "  I  think  the  old  ideas  most  likely  to 
be  truest." 

"  But  thought  transference  is  as  old  as  Homer," 
argued  Myra.     Never  at  a  loss  for  facts  she  would 
to-day  have  braved  a  bishop. 
[224] 


CHAPTER     TWELVE 

"  I  have  always  understood  that  Oliver  Wendell 
Homer  was  a  Unitarian,"  retorted  Mr.  Ramsey,  not 
to  be  put  down. 

"  Myra,"  said  Myra's  mother,  "  if  your  grand 
father  could  hear  you  sometimes,  he  would  turn  in 
his  grave." 

"  Folly !  "  snorted  the  Professor,  rising  and  leav 
ing  the  room,  with  great  deliberation. 

The  dinner  on  Thanksgiving-Day  was  like  all  the 
other  dinners  eaten  in  Pineopolis.  It  differed  from 
them  in  one  material  particular  only — Mr.  Ramsey, 
for  once  upon  a  purely  social  footing,  had  brought 
no  contribution.  Moreover,  in  the  time  of  prepara 
tion  he  made  no  offer  of  assistance,  but  listened  to 
his  host  in  the  workshop,  as  though  collapsible  seats 
had  all  the  charm  of  novelty. 

"  Really,"  Myra  declared  to  her  mother,  as  they 
compounded  Lincoln  pudding,  "  this  is  too  absurd." 

"  You  are  never  just  to  Mr.  Ramsey,"  declared 
her  mother.  "  His  tact  appears  to  be  instinctive. 
Are  you  sure  we  have  not  put  in  sugar  twice?  " 

"  Like  his  knowledge  of  the  classics,"  added 
Myra.  "Mother,  you  ought  to  stir  more  brisk- 

iy-" 

[225J 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
"  Compare  him  with  that  deceitful  Mr.  Christen- 

sen,"    began    Mrs.    Dale,    bringing    her    spoon    to 

rest. 

"  Oh,  I  should  never  think  of  such  a  thing ! " 

protested  Myra.     "  Stir,  mother,  stir !  " 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 


CHAPTER  XIII 

MR.  CHRISTENSEN  had  come  again, 
and  he  had  gone,  leaving  some  horse's 
tracks  beside  the  pool,  and  several  other 
impressions  more  or  less  distinct.  When  he  had 
bounded  into  sight  upon  his  borrowed  colt,  Myra 
had  fancied  him  to  have  taken  greater  pains  to  be 
there  than  afterward  appeared,  and  this  notion, 
foolish  as  it  was,  remained.  Also  another — that  he 
had  found  the  ride  worth  less  than  whatever  trouble 
it  had  cost.  But  when  events  come  few  and  far 
between,  one  is  apt  to  dwell  upon  them  over-much ; 
and  even  such  meaningless  phrases  as  "  till  we  meet 
again,"  uttered  in  a  formal,  foreign  way,  take  on 
undue  importance. 

"  Child,  why  are  you  so  much  interested  in  the 
mail?  "  her  mother  asked  one  day,  a  fortnight  after 
the  festivities  of  Thanksgiving-Day.  "  Are  you 
expecting  anything?  " 

[229] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

And  Myra,  lowering  her  head,  replied : 

"  No,  mother ;  you  know  I  never  get  letters." 

"  Dear  me !  I  wish  your  father  did  not,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Dale.  "  He  has  had  several  lately  that  he 
hides." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  about  the  great  calamities 
that  are  to  come  in  January,"  suggested  Myra. 
"  You  know  he  says  the  world  is  to  be  destroyed, 
although  I  am  sure  he  cannot  believe  it." 

"  Indeed,  you  may  be  sure  it  is  something  worse 
than  that,"  her  mother  replied.  "  He  has  been  rest 
less  since  he  went  to  Thebes  a  month  ago.  I  hope 
it  is  not  money.  1  hope  he  has  not  found  anyone 
to  lend  him  money." 

Myra  caught  her  breath. 

"  He  must  have  had  some  to  buy  all  those  things," 
she  said. 

"  Dear  me !  I  never  thought  of  that,"  cried  Mrs. 
Dale.  "  Where  do  you  suppose  it  came  from?  " 

"  From  Mr.  Ramsey,"  declared  Myra,  boldly. 

Mrs.  Dale  sank  limply  to  a  chair. 

"  The  only  friend  we  had  left,"  she  almost 
moaned. 

"  Mother,"  cried  Myra,  bringing  down  her  foot, 
[  230  ] 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 
"  I  am  going  away.  I  am  going  to  earn  money  and 
support  myself,  and  send  all  I  can  save  back  to  you 
and  father.  I  am  going  to  be  an  actress,  a  nursery 
governess,  or  anything  that  don't  demand  expe 
rience." 

"Oh,  child;  you  mustn't  talk  like  that!"  her 
mother  sobbed.  "  Your  grandfather  would  turn  in 
his  grave.  Oh,  Myra!  if  you  ever  went  on  the 
stage,  I  should  have  to  be  there  to  take  care  of 
you !  "  Even  in  her  real  distress  a  crumb  of  conso 
lation  had  appeared  before  Mrs.  Dale. 

It  was  early  forenoon,  and  they  supposed  them 
selves  alone  in  the  pineland ;  therefore  the  cheerful 
whoa !  of  Mr.  Ramsey,  heard  without,  was  a  distinct 
surprise. 

"  I  put  up  at  the  workmen's  cabin  at  the  bog  last 
night,"  he  said,  in  joyous  explanation  of  his  pres 
ence,  "  and  now  I'm  driving  back  to  town.  I  came 
around  this  way  to  see  if  some  of  you  folks  wouldn't 
like  to  drive  in.  I'd  bring  you  back  to-night,  along 
with  some  tools  the  men  have  got  to  have." 

Mr.  Ramsey's  invitation,  though  inclusive,  had 
not  been  spoken  loud  enough  to  penetrate  the  work 
shop  door,  and,  from  the  direction  of  his  eyes,  one 

might  have  guessed  its  inner  meaning. 
F231  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  I  should  like  very  much  to  go  to  Thebes,"  said 
Myra. 

"To  where?"  demanded  the  Professor,  whose 
sense  of  hearing  was  acute,  as  from  the  door-way 
he  became  a  factor  in  the  dialogue. 

"  To  Thebes,"  repeated  Myra.  "  Mr.  Ramsey 
has  invited  me  to  go." 

"  In  that  case,"  said  her  father,  "  you  must  not 
forget  to  call  at  Shinn's  for  a  small  bottle  of 
machine-oil  that  I  purchased,  and  he  omitted  to 
put  in  the  buggy.  Insist  on  getting  it,  for  Shinn 
is  a  great  rascal." 

"  I  will  make  a  little  list  of  what  I  need,"  said 
Mrs.  Dale — "  benzine,  and  ink,  and  chocolate  per- 
permints."  When  Myra  had  gone  running  up  the 
open  stair  to  fetch  her  hat,  her  mother  asked  of  Mr. 
Ramsey,  with  casual  interest: 

"  Are  there  any  theatrical  people  in  Thebes  at 
present?  " 

"  Why,  the  Brazilian  Bell-Ringers  are  billed  to 
show  to-night,"  he  answered,  "  and  they  say  they're 
great.  Do  you  think  Miss  Myra  would  care  to  see 
them?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Mrs.  Dale ;  "  and  you  must 
[232] 


CHAPTER    THIRTEEN 
promise  me  not  to  let  her  out  of  your  sight  for  a 
single   instant." 

"  If  it  had  been  « Uncle  Tom,'  "  cried  Myra  from 
the  stairs,  "  I  don't  believe  mother  would  have  al 
lowed  you  to  have  the  pleasure  of  my  society,  Mr. 
Ramsey." 

"  Nonsense !  "  put  in  the  elder  lady,  proudly. 
"  I  am  sure  my  child  would  never  do  a  foolish  thing 
without  her  mother's  advice." 

Mr.  Ramsey  looked  a  trifle  puzzled ;  but  then  he 
often  found  the  family  puzzling.  He  would  have 
liked  to  urge  the  merits  of  the  bell-ringers  at 
greater  length,  but  the  sight  of  Myra  in  her  hat, 
with  the  spotted  veil  that  kissed  her  straight,  short 
nose,  deterred  him.  Even  in  the  old  blue  sun- 
bonnet  he  had  found  her  at  times  irresistible. 

'  You  will  have  to  excuse  the  buggy's  not  having 
been  washed,"  he  told  her,  gathering  up  the  reins. 

"  I  trust  you  have  a  docile  horse,"  called  the  Pro 
fessor  from  the  door. 

"  I  guess  he  hasn't  changed  much  since  you 
brought  out  the  windiphone,"  the  agent  called 
back. 

"  This  is   a  great  day   for  me,"  he  went  on. 
[  233  ] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
When  once  the  cross-roads  were  well  behind  the 
brown  horse  settled  down  to  a  satisfactory  home 
ward  gait. 

"  And  for  me,  too,"  said  his  companion.  "  I  have 
not  seen  a  field  for  weeks  and  weeks." 

"  You  only  had  to  say  the  word,'*  protested  Mr. 
Ramsey,  flicking  a  pine-bough  with  his  whip. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know,"  Myra  assented.  "  But  I  did 
not  want  to  see  them  until  to-day."  Her  eyes  were 
on  the  patch  of  light  far  down  the  sombre  vista, 
but  coming  every  moment  nearer. 

"  I  hope  you  will  like  it  well  enough  to  drive  over 
again,"  persisted  Mr.  Ramsey.  "  It's  sorter  shut 
up  in  the  pines  for  you.  I  think  it  does  a  person 
good  to  see  a  little  something  different  once  in  a 
while." 

"  I  have  the  pig-man's  children,"  she  reminded 
him.  "  They  come  quite  regularly  now." 

This  brought  up  what  was,  in  a  way,  a  common 
interest,  and  he  told  her  of  a  message  he  had  sent 
the  pig-man,  warning  him  to  amend  his  ways,  or 
take  the  consequences. 

"  I  guess  I  scared  them  for  a  time ;  but,  with  a 
low-down   lot  like  that,  it   won't  do  any  lasting 
[2341 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 
good,"  he  opined,  and  Myra  could  not  but  admit 
that  he  had  acted  leniently. 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,"  she  said. 

"  You  needn't  be,"  he  answered.  "  It's  always 
better  to  go  slow." 

The  patch  of  light  had  grown  larger — as  large 
as  a  door  opening  from  a  dark  church  out  into  the 
sunlight — and  presently  they  had  left  the  deep 
shades  of  the  pines  behind.  The  road  now  lay  be 
tween  rail-fences,  guarding  illimitable  reaches  of 
corn-land,  grass-land,  and  fallow.  Every  quarter 
of  a  mile  there  was  a  farm-house,  an  orchard,  and  a 
well.  There  were  barns,  and  sheds,  and  barn-yards 
everywhere,  and  in  the  air  a  smell  of  milk  and  of 
hay. 

In  the  fields  men  tended  stubble-fires  or  gathered 
rustling  corn-stalks  into  stacks,  working  leisurely 
as  farmers  may  in  autumn,  when  the  work  is  slack. 
Sometimes  a  woman  looked  out  from  a  window  in 
shamefaced  curiosity,  and  often  children  shouted 
noisy,  nasal  greetings  from  the  gates.  Except 
where  a  field  of  winter  wheat  grew  green,  the  earth 
was  red  as  the  tillage  of  Mars — red  as  the  round 
sun  hanging  in  the  hazy  sky. 
[2351 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Oh,  isn't  it  beautiful?"  cried  Myra,  sitting 
erect  to  look  about. 

"  It  is  pretty  sightly  for  a  fact,"  assented  Mr. 
Ramsey ;  "  but  for  my  taste,  I'd  like  it  as  well  if  it 
wasn't  quite  so  flat." 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  that,"  she  demurred.  "  I 
mean  the  world,  and  all  the  people  in  it." 

Turning  her  head,  she  saw  the  pines — dark  and 
level  as  a  sullen  ocean  in  the  east — and  at  the  mo 
ment  she  would  have  been  glad  had  this  been  her 
last  glimpse  of  them. 

"  Some  day  I'm  going  to  get  all  you  folks  to 
come  in  and  take  dinner  at  the  Union  House,"  an 
nounced  the  agent ;  and  Myra's  little  dream  of  lib 
erty  was  gone.  Beyond  the  pines,  the  world  to  her 
must  mean  no  more  than  Mr.  Ramsey  and  the  Union 
House. 

"  That  will  be  very  nice,"  she  said.  "  It  is  kind 
of  you  to  think  of  it." 

"  Maybe,  if  there  was  a  show  in  town,  you'd  stay 
all  night,"  he  went  on,  much  encouraged. 

"  That  would  be  very  nice,"  she  said  again. 

When  the  wooden  spires  of  Thebes  drew  near, 
objects  of  interest  began  to  multiply — door-yards 
[2361 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 
and   dogs,    baby-carriages    and    bay-windows — and 
Mr.  Ramsey  pointed  out  improvements  in  the  town 
with  his  whip. 

"  I  guess  the  squire's  built  that  fence  since  you 
were  here,"  he  said. 

"  Has  he?  What  a  pretty  colour  he  has  painted 
it!" 

"  Some  folks  thought  the  yellow  was  a  little 
loud." 

"  Oh,  I  like  it ;  it's  so  cheerful !  " 

As  they  passed  the  Union  House,  Shinn's  store, 
and  the  Masonic  Hall,  Myra  wondered  why  she  had 
ever  thought  Thebes  unattractive. 

She  descended  at  the  carriage-block  before  the 
Baptist  Church. 

v  "  I  shall  be  ready  to  go  back  when  you  are,"  she 
declared.  And  Mr.  Ramsey,  banishing  a  wild  and 
reckless  dream  of  dinner  at  the  Union  House,  agreed 
to  meet  her  in  just  one  hour. 

"  I've  got  to  get  those  pick-handles  back  to  the 
bog,"  he  said ;  "  but  any  time  to-day  will  do.  IB 
there  any  chance  of  your  getting  hungry  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  shall  buy  some  ginger-snaps  to  eat  going 
back,"  she  told  him,  with  a  reassuring  nod,  and  left 
him. 

[237] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

For  a  while  she  lingered  before  the  milliner's 
window,  looking  at  most  outrageous  hats,  which  she 
did  not  see.  On  the  bridge  she  watched  the  water 
hurrying  by,  powdered  with  sawdust  from  the  mill, 
and  once  she  turned  into  a  by-way  to  avoid  a  woman 
whom  she  had  known.  Myra  detested  everyone 
whom  she  had  known  in  Thebes.  Finally,  when 
half  an  hour  of  the  time  had  slipped  away,  she 
walked  directly  to  the  general  store  of  Paul  and 
Peter  Shinn,  and  entered. 

The  atmosphere  within  was  charged  with  many 
smells — leather  and  soap,  and  cloth  and  kerosene. 
Three  citizens  beside  the  stove  spat  dolefully ;  a  new 
clerk  lolled  upon  a  crate  of  rubber-boots,  and  be 
side  the  candy-case  a  small  child  with  a  nickel 
waited  patiently.  At  sight  of  Myra  the  new  clerk, 
who  derived  his  humour  from  the  circus,  slid  from 
his  box,  remarking,  casually  : 

"Hoop  la!" 

Perceiving  that  her  errand  had  to  do  with  the 
post-office,  he  leaped  the  counter  gracefully,  and 
presently  his  head  appeared  behind  the  small  official 
window. 

"  What  name  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an  insinuating 

smile. 

[  238  1 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

"  Dale." 

"Spelled  D-a-l-e,  ain't  it?  Pine  folks,  aren't 
they?  I  usually  give  their  mail  to  Mr.  Ramsey. 
D — D — D  " — the  young  man  overhauled  the  con 
tents  of  compartment  D — "  D — Dickie — Dabney — 
Dunn — Dale.  Here  you  are!  It  ain't  for  you, 
though,  Miss." 

The  letter  was  for  her  father — a  thick  envelope 
in  an  unfamiliar  hand ;  but  Myra  scarcely  glanced 
at  it. 

"  Please  look  again,"  she  said,  rising  on  her  toes 
to  peer  into  the  inclosure.  "  One  might  have  got 
astray,  you  know,  among  so  many." 

"  Not  likely ;  but  I'll  look.  We  aim  to  please," 
the  young  man  said.  "  Dickie — Dabney — Dunn, 
and  Darling.  That  couldn't  be  it,  now,  could  it?  " 
and  the  young  man,  putting  his  head  upon  one  side, 
smiled. 

"  Please  look  in  all  the  other  boxes,"  said  Myra, 
almost  in  command. 

"  Whew !  "  he  whistled.  "  Do  you  want  me  to 
go  through  the  alphabet?  " 

"  Yes,"  Myra  answered ;  "  if  you  please." 

The  operation  lasted  several  minutes,  and  though 
I  2391 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
the  new  clerk  feigned  exhaustion  more  than  once,  it 
was  performed  with  thoroughness. 

"  Zedkowsky !  "  he  said,  finally.  "  I'm  sorry,  but 
that's  our  line  of  goods.  Now  let  me  show  you 
something  else." 

"  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  you,  indeed,"  said 
Myra.  "  I  want  to  buy  some  ginger-snaps." 

"  Square,  round,  or  scalloped?  "  demanded  the 
alert  young  man — "  with  holes  in  them,  or  with 
out?  " 

"  Just  ginger-snaps,"  said  Myra,  wearily. 

When  Mr.  Ramsey  found  her,  seated  on  the 
horse-block  before  the  Baptist  Church,  she  had  a 
little  row  of  packages  before  her — benzine  and  ink 
and  peppermints. 

"  Is  there  anywhere  you'd  like  to  go  before  we 
start  for  home?  "  he  asked,  when  she  was  seated 
once  more  in  the  buggy. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,"  she  answered,  "  I  should 
like  to  drive  past  our  old  house." 

"  All  right,  if  you  say  so,"  Mr.  Ramsey  assented, 
doubtfully.  "  But  the  property  has  gone  down 
some  since  you  folks  went  away." 

"  Has  it  been  empty  ?  " 

[  240  ] 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

"No;  not  exactly  that.  But  what's  the  use  of 
looking  at  it?  It's  terribly  run  down." 

"  But  what  sort  of  people  are  living  there?  "  she 
demanded. 

"  Well,  it  was  old,  you  know,  and  in  disrepair," 
he  stammered,  "  and  they  let  it  to  a  family 

"What  family?" 

Mr.  Ramsey  reddened  to  the  back  of  his  sun 
burned  neck. 

"  I  don't  know  who  they  are,"  he  murmured ; 
"  but  I've  heard  that  they  are  coloured." 

"  I  hope  they  pay  their  rent  more  regularly  than 
we  did,"  said  Myra;  and  neither  spoke  again  till 
they  had  passed  the  squire's  yellow  fence.  Then 
Mr.  Ramsey  inquired :  "  Are  those  pick-handles  in 
your  way  ?  "  And  Myra  assured  him  that  they 
afforded  her  a  convenient  footstool. 

"  I  am  going  to  take  you  out  the  Morgantown 
Pike  a-ways,"  he  went  on,  as  they  drove  out  of 
Thebes.  "  We  can  strike  the  pines  by  the  north 
road,  which  will  make  a  little  variety." 

"  That  will  be  very  nice,"  she  agreed. 

"  I  hope  those  clouds  don't  mean  rain,"  remarked 
the  agent,  looking  skyward.  "  The  weather  we've 

been  having  couldn't  keep  up  forever." 
[241] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  No,"  she  admitted ;  "  it  has  been  too  bright  to 
last." 

The  afternoon  had  grown  cold  and  colourless, 
without  sun  or  shadow,  and  the  world  seemed  seen 
through  dim  glass.  In  the  distance  the  clouds  ap 
peared  to  touch  the  pinelands,  if  indeed  the  long, 
dark  streak  upon  the  horizon  were  not  a  heavier 
belt  of  hanging  vapour. 

"  Do  you  think  it  will  rain  before  we  get  home?  " 
Myra  asked. 

"  No ;  not  so  soon  as  that.  I  wouldn't  bet  on  rain 
at  all.  There's  been  some  fires  south,  and  like 
enough  those  clouds  are  mostly  smoke." 

Houses  were  few  along  the  pike,  and,  except  a 
negro  driving  a  cow,  they  saw  no  one  for  a  mile. 
But  the  track  was  harder  than  on  the  less  frequented 
roads,  and,  if  possible,  redder.  The  fences,  too, 
bore  evidences  of  a  higher  civilisation,  in  desultory, 
admonitory  sentences :  "  Go  to  Cohen's  for  hats  and 
caps,"  and  a  wearisome,  recurrent  jingle: 

"  Exchange  that  ancient  machine  of  thine 
For  a  Buckley  and  Bradford  Number  Nine." 

Here  and  there  well-meaning  hands  had  daubed 

upon  the  rails  rude  letters  conveying  terrible  mes- 
[  242  ] 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 
sages :  "  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God !  "    "  Shall  it  be 
heaven  or  hell?  "     "  Remember  death! " 

Mr.  Ramsey,  who  seldom  ventured  upon  initia 
tive,  became  silent,  whilst  Myra  counted  seven 
allusions  to  the  desirable  number  nine,  and  four  re 
minders  of  mortality.  Then  there  was  a  sound  of 
wheels  and  hoofs  behind  them,  and  the  agent  drew 
aside  to  yield  the  right  of  way  to  a  more  rapid 
traveller. 

Immediately  abreast  of  them  appeared  the  heads 
of  two  black  horses,  rather  over-dressed  in  point  of 
chains  and  buckles,  and,  following  them,  a  shining 
side-bar  road-waggon,  in  which  the  driver,  in  a 
large  drab  coat,  sat  smoking  a  cigar.  With  a  nod 
in  acknowledgment  of  the  agent's  courtesy  he  urged 
his  horses  faster,  and  in  another  moment  his  broad 
back  was  far  ahead. 

"  That's  that  fellow  I  was  telling  you  about," 
observed  Mr.  Ramsey ;  "  the  one  who  owns  that 
stock-farm  at  Morgantown  where  the  Swedish  fel 
low  stopped.  Did  you  notice  his  rig?  " 

"  No,"  answered  Myra.  "  Other  people's  things 
don't  interest  me." 

"  That  team  ought  to  interest  anyone,"  persisted 
[2431 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
Mr.    Ramsey,    his    latent   love   of    sport    aroused. 
"  They're   pure    Hambletonian.      You   should   see 
that  nigh  one  under  the  saddle.     Pie's  a  bute !  " 

"  I  don't  like  horses,"  she  replied,  "  and  I  don't 
like  people  who  go  tearing  past  you  just  to  show 
off.  I  want  to  get  home  j  ust  as  quick  as  I  can." 

"  It  wouldn't  take  us  long  if  we  had  those  Ham- 
bletonians." 

Myra  gave  the  pick -handles  a  small,  impatient 
kick,  but  held  her  peace. 

"  I  guess  this  driving  sixteen  miles  on  a  stretch 
is  pretty  tiresome,  when  you're  not  used  to  it,"  Mr. 
Ramsey  said,  considerately,  when  the  pause  had 
lasted  for  a  mile. 

"  I  am  a  little  tired,"  she  admitted,  leaning  her 
head  against  the  buggy's  faded  lining.  By-and- 
by,  after  a  long  time,  as  it  seemed,  they  neared  the 
pines  again.  First,  there  were  stumps  in  the  fields, 
then  piles  of  yellow  cord-wood,  newly  split,  and 
then  the  long,  sweet,  murmuring  alleys  arched  above 
them,  calm  as  a  cloister,  restful  as  a  church. 

"  Oh,  it  is  good  to  be  back  again !  "  Myra  cried, 
drawing  long  breaths  of  fragrant  air.    "  Oh,  I  shall 
never,  never  leave  the  pines  again !  " 
[  244  1 


CHAPTER     THIRTEEN 

"  I  shouldn't  like  anything  better  than  to  have 
a  house  right  here  on  the  edge,"  assented  Mr.  Ram 
sey  ;  "  so  you'd  get  the  pine  air,  and  see  out  at  the 
same  time." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  want  to  see  out.  I  want  to  live  in 
the  forest,  where  no  one  could  ever  find  me." 

"  Maybe  that  would  be  healthier,"  said  Mr.  Ram 
sey,  doubtfully.  "  I  say,"  he  cried  a  moment  later, 
"  don't  you  see  something  on  ahead?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  agreed,  looking  into  the  dis 
tance  ;  "  something  like  a  big  snake  right  across  the 
road." 

"  Pshaw !  "  he  laughed.  "  There  couldn't  be  a 
snake  that  big.  It's  a  tree  that  has  fallen." 

"  What  shall  we  do — turn  back?  " 

"  I  guess  not,  before  we  have  to,"  he  replied,  con 
fidently.  "  We've  come  six  miles,  and  two  times  six 
is  twelve." 


[245] 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HALL  l  Set  out?  "  inquired  Myra. 

"  Yes,  if  you  like,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey. 
"  But  there  isn't  any  hurry." 
He  had  stepped  to  the  road-side,  and  both  were 
face  to  face  with  a  dilemma.  Before  them  a  stout 
young  trunk  lay  directly  across  the  road  from  side 
to  side ;  on  either  hand  the  trees  stood  scarce  a  yard 
apart;  the  sandy  track,  worn  hub-deep  below  the 
general  level  of  the  forest,  was  so  narrow  that  turn 
ing  back  was  now  impossible.  Had  the  barrier  been 
planned,  no  better  spot  could  have  been  chosen. 

"What  shall  we  do?"  demanded  Myra,  with 
feminine  impatience  for  conclusions;  but  her  tone 
implied  confidence.  As  she  watched  the  agent's 
light  eyes  grow  keen  to  take  in  every  detail  of  the 
situation,  she  felt  that,  whatever  should  be  done, 
would  be  effectual  and  workman-like,  and  the  best 
[249] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
thing  possible.    And  there  was  also  a  spice  of  ad 
venture  in  the  difficulty  not  without  attraction. 

"How  do  you  suppose  it  came  to  fall?"  she 
asked.  "  There  has  not  been  much  wind  lately." 

"  Some  squatter  has  cut  it  down  for  spite,"  he 
answered,  pushing  back  his  hat,  and  Myra,  recall 
ing  the  pig-man,  looked  about  her  apprehensively. 

"  Oh,  he's  not  likely  to  be  within  a  mile  of  here," 
he  reassured  her.  "  The  first  thing  we've  got  to  do 
is  to  take  out  the  horse." 

As  he  stooped  to  loosen  the  nearest  trace,  Myra, 
springing  out  upon  the  other  side,  began  to  tug  at 
buckles  with  her  small  brown  hands. 

"  All  clear  over  there  ?  "  he  called  out,  taking  her 
success  for  granted. 

"  It  will  be  in  a  minute,"  she  rejoined.  "  The 
straps  are  a  little  stiff." 

"Shall  I  come  round?" 

"No;  it's  all  right  now." 

Mr.  Ramsey  led  the  horse  around  the  barrier, 
and  tied  him  to  a  tree  beyond. 

"  How  much  can  you  push?  "  he  asked,  laugh 
ing,  when  he  had  returned.    As  ever,  he  was  at  his 
best  in  action — executive  and  self-assured.     The 
f  250  1 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 
pioneer  in  him  was  to  the  fore — the  master-work 
man,  the  commonwealth  builder. 

"Tin  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Myra;  "but  I 
am  very  strong  for  a  girl." 

The  agent  drew  the  buggy  forward,  and,  mount 
ing  on  the  tree-trunk,  lifted  the  fore-wheels  bodily 
by  the  shafts. 

"  You  push  from  behind,"  he  commanded. 
"  Not  too  hard,  but  just  enough  not  to  let  her  run 
back.  All  right!  that's  done;  she'll  hold  herself 
now.  Come  round  on  this  side." 

Myra  clambered  up  the  bank,  and,  flushed  with 
action  and  the  promise  of  success,  ran  through  the 
trees  as  though  it  were  a  game  in  which  she  feared 
to  lose  her  innings. 

"  Lord,  you're  all  out  of  breath !  "  expostulated 
Mr.  Ramsey.  "  Sit  down  and  rest.  You  must  be 
tired,  shoving  like  that." 

"  And  did  I  really  help?  "  she  panted. 

"  Rather !  I  had  to  lift  straight  up,  and  if  you 
had  not  sent  her  ahead,  we  never  could  have  fetched 
it." 

He  next  contrived  an  arrangement  of  hitching- 
rope  and  straps,  by  which  the  horse  could  lend 

assistance  at  a  safe  distance. 
[251] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  I'll  go  behind  this  time  and  lift,"  he  said, 
"  while  you  just  lead  him  forward  when  I  give  the 
word." 

When  everything  was  ready,  "  Let  her  go ! M 
cried  Mr.  Ramsey. 

"  Get  up !  "  said  Myra,  speaking  to  the  horse. 

"Steady!" 

"Whoa!" 

"Go  ahead!" 

"Get  up!" 

"  Now — easy ! " 

"Whoa!" 

"Eureka!" 

"Splendid!" 

Mr.  Ramsey's  forehead  was  beady,  and  Myra's 
face  was  pink.  He  had  lost  a  cuff ,  and  she  had 
torn  her  best  dress.  The  ginger-snaps  had  fallen 
out,  the  harness  was  in  knots ;  but  they  had  striven 
together  and  overcome,  and,  sitting  on  either  side 
of  the  narrow,  sandy  track,  they  laughed  more 
freely  than  they  had  ever  before  laughed  together. 
The  fresh  pine  air  was  all  about  them,  the  glamour 
of  the  way-side.  They  were  alone,  dusty  and  dis 
reputable,  but  not  ashamed.  The  barrier  they  had 
[252] 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 
passed  was  between  them  and  the  world.     Before 
them   the   forest — primeval   and   elemental — whis 
pered  of  life  sufficient  in  itself. 

"  Sit  still,"  he  said,  when  she  made  a  motion  to 
rise,  for  the  sense  of  leadership  lingered  in  him. 
"  Sit  there  and  rest  till  I  get  things  straightened 
out." 

"  No ;  I  shall  do  my  share  of  straightening  out," 
she  answered,  springing  to  her  feet.  She  began  to 
shake  the  fallen  lap-robe  free  of  needles,  but  Mr. 
Ramsey  tried  to  take  it  from  her. 

"  I'm  section-boss  on  this  particular  bit  of 
track,"  he  said,  "  and  you're  a  passenger." 

"  I'm  not!  "  she  protested.  "  You  said  just  now 
I  helped." 

"  You  did,  indeed ;  but  that's  all  over  now.  I 
hated  to  have  you  work  so  hard." 

As  they  faced  each  other,  each  clinging  reso 
lutely  to  a  corner  of  the  shabby  cloth,  an  inspira 
tion  came  to  Mr.  Ramsey. 

"  If  I  had  my  way,  you'd  never  lift  your  hand 
to  anything  again,"  he  said,  with  sudden  daring. 
"  If  I  had  my  way,  you'd  have  a  hired-girl  to  tie 
your  shoes." 

[2531 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

Myra  relaxed  her  hold. 

"  Mr.  Ramsey,"  she  said,  stepping  back  a  pace, 
"  do  you  want  to  make  me  walk  three  miles  home  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  responded,  blankly ;  "  why  should  you 
do  that?  " 

"  Then  let  us  get  ready  and  go  on  as  soon  as 
possible." 

They  scarcely  spoke  again  till  the  cross-road 
clearing  made  an  opening  far  ahead ;  and  then  she 
said: 

"  You  mustn't  think  me  ungrateful  to  you  for 
taking  me  to  Thebes,  or  for  the  many  other  things 
you  have  done  for  us." 

Mr.  Ramsey  did  not  look  at  her.  During  the 
last  two  miles  his  eyes  had  been  directed  toward  the 
distance,  as  though  fixed  upon  some  object  there 
by  which  he  steered. 

"  I  don't  go  much  on  gratitude,"  he  remarked. 
"  You  either  like  a  person  or  you  don't,  and  that's 
the  end  of  it." 

"  But  there  are  different  ways  of  liking,"  she 
insisted. 

"  Maybe,"  he  admitted.  "  But  there  is  only  one 
way  that  counts." 

F  2541 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 
Myra  bit  her  lip.     A  clear  understanding  with 
Mr.  Ramsey  was  imperative  before  they  reached  the 
clearing,  and  that  was  not  very  far  away. 

"  Friendship  counts  for  a  great  deal,"  she  as 
sured  him ;  "  and  you  have  been  a  true  friend  to 
us." 

"  Are  you  going  to  let  me  keep  right  on  as  be 
fore?  "  he  asked,  turning  his  eyes  upon  her,  full 
in  supplication. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said.     "  Why  should  I  not?  " 

"  And  if  there  ever  should  be  any  chance  of 

something  more,"  he  went  on,  a  new  ring  in  his 

voice,  "  you'll  promise  to  let  me  know.     Not  tell 

me  anything,  of  course — just  let  me  know." 

Myra  hung  her  head.  There,  in  the  bottom  of 
the  buggy  with  the  pick-handles,  lay  the  letter  for 
her  father,  in  an  unfamiliar  hand.  Perhaps  it 
meant  new  difficulties;  perhaps  it  brought  disap 
pointment  about  some  money  with  which  he  had 
hoped  to  pay  his  debt — all  letters  stood  for  disap 
pointments.  What  was  to  happen  when  the  agent 
began  to  expect  repayment?  What  was  to  happen 
should  the  company  require  Pincopolis  for  paying 
tenants,  now  that  the  paintless  house  in  Thebes  was 
f  255  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
occupied  by  negroes?    What  was  she,  at  best,  but 
a  foolish,  useless  pineland  girl?     As  once  before, 
the  impulse  to  acquit  herself  of  debt,  and  pay  a 
pound  for  every  penny,  seized  her. 

"  Mr.  Ramsey,"  she  said,  "  I  will  let  you  know 
now.  If  you  really  want  me  to  like  you,  I  will 
promise  to  try." 

Mr.  Ramsey  threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  That  does  not  sound  like  very  much,"  he  said. 
"  But  you  are  not  a  girl  to  lead  a  fellow  on  for 
nothing." 

"  I  only  said  I  would  try,"  she  reminded  him, 
drawing  a  little  away. 

"  Oh,  I  can  wait,"  he  said.  "  I'll  wait  a  month, 
or  a  year,  or  any  time  you  say." 

When  Pineopolis  was  reached  Mr.  Ramsey  be 
came  gaiety  itself.  Refusing  to  sit  down,  and 
moving  restlessly  about  the  room,  he  joked  with  the 
Professor  about  the  bottle  of  machine-oil,  which 
had  been  discovered  in  a  pocket  of  his  duster  after 
his  daughter  had  started  for  Thebes;  he  rallied 
Mrs.  Dale  concerning  her  management  of  chickens, 
and  he  teased  Uranus,  the  cat. 

"  Now,  if  Miss  Myra  was  to  marry,"  he  observed, 
[256] 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 
pausing  at  the  window  to  beat  a  light  tattoo  upon 
the  pane,  "  where  would  you  like  her  to  live?    How 
would  a  nice  Queen  Anne  cottage  do,  just  there 
across  the  road?  " 

"  This  is  no  time  for  considering  any  proposi 
tion,  however  remote,"  declared  the  Professor,  who 
had  a  scientist's  distaste  for  the  speculative.  Luna, 
decreasing  in  light,  approaches  Saturn  in  the  house 
of  Mars,  and  no  plan  now  initiated  could  come  to 
consummation." 

"  If  I  had  any  plan  on  foot,"  retorted  Mr.  Ram 
sey,  flippantly,  "I'd  like  to  see  the  zodiac  that  could 
stop  it."  And  presently  he  drove  away,  still  beam 
ing,  with  his  pick-handles  to  the  cranberry  bog. 

"  Father,"  said  Myra,  when  the  family  were 
alone,  "  is  this  really  an  unlucky  day  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  day  on  which  the  most  unenlightened 
rustic  would  hesitate  to  shear  a  sheep,"  her  father 
replied,  with  authority. 

"  Then  anything  begun  to-day  would  not  be 
likely  to  come  to  much?  " 

"  If  your  question  is  seriously  put,"  said  the 
Professor,  "  this  is  a  most  inauspicious  time  for 
inquiry;  if  it  is  not  serious,  it  need  not  be  asked 
at  all." 

[257] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Please  tell  me  everything  you  saw  in  Thebes, 
and  everything  you  did,"  put  in  her  mother;  and 
Myra,  taking  a  seat  upon  the  trunk,  folded  her 
spotted  veil,  and  thrust  a  hat-pin  through  it. 

"  The  last  thing  I  did,"  she  announced,  looking 
about  her  calmly — so  calmly  that  her  words  seemed 
to  lose  their  significance — "  was  to  half  engage 
myself  to  marry  Mr.  Ramsey." 

"  To  marry  Mr.  Ramsey !  "  gasped  her  mother, 
sinking  upon  the  sofa. 

"  Folly !  "  remarked  her  father.  "  It  will  come 
to  nothing."  But  at  the  workshop  door  he  lin 
gered  to  hear  what  was  to  follow. 

"  Think  of  your  grandfather — "  began  Mrs. 
Dale. 

"  I  have,"  responded  Myra,  with  a  sigh.  "  His 
remains  are  probably  whirling  at  this  moment. 
But  I  am  thinking  more  of  you,  mother.  Are  you 
glad  or  sorry  ?  " 

Mrs.  Dale  replied  by  inference  only. 

"  My  child,"  she  said,  "  your  grandfather  was  a 
Hay  dock,  and  what  on  earth  was  Mr.  Ramsey's 
grandfather?  " 

"  I  don't  believe  he  knows,"  her  daughter  ad- 
[258] 


CHAPTER     FOURTEEN 

mitted ;  "  but  his  father  was,  on  earth,  a  division 
superintendent,  and,  whatever  that  may  be,  it 
sounds  as  far  above  reproach  as  a  domestic  bill  of 
lading." 

"  Oh,  Myra,"  the  mother  sighed,  "  you  seem  to 
have  no  appreciation  of  the  serious  side  of  life.  I 
wish  your  father  would  remonstrate  with  you." 

"  I  shall  discuss  nothing,"  said  the  Professor, 
"while  the  great  conjunction  is  impending;  and, 
after  that,  if  we  survive,  conditions  will  have 
changed  materially." 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Dale,  with  fervour,  "  I 
wish  that  could  be  true."  Her  characteristic  pref 
erence  for  unpleasant  events  rather  than  no  events 
at  all  had  advantages  under  certain  circumstances. 

Later,  when,  over  tea  and  potted  duck,  Myra 
related  to  her  mother  all,  word  for  word,  that  had 
passed  between  the  agent  of  Pineopolis  and  herself, 
Mrs.  Dale  remarked : 

"  Why,  child,  you  are  not  engaged  at  all !  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  didn't  mean  to  be,"  replied  Myra, 
humbly ;  "  but  Mr.  Ramsey  seems  to  think  I  am." 

The  next  day,  and  the  next,  the  subject  was  al 
lowed  to  rest.  It  was  a  family  habit  not  to  disturb 
[2591 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
matters  which  did  not  assert  themselves.  The  third 
day  Mrs.  Dale  began  a  sentence  with  "  If  you 
should  ever  marry  Mr.  Ramsey — "  and  once  she 
said :  "  Your  father  seems  much  more  like  himself." 
The  fourth  day  Mr.  Ramsey  came  again. 


[260 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 


CHAPTER  XV 

MR.  RAMSEY'S  whiskers  had  been  newly 
trimmed,  and  he  in  other  ways  bore  the 
evidences  of  an  awakening  to  externals. 
His  shoes  were  new,  and  probably  his  hat,  also ;  but 
the  red  dust  of  the  drive  left  this  in  doubt. 

During  the  first  moments  of  his  visit  Myra  kept 
closely  to  her  mother's  side,  though  when  it  became 
evident  that  Mr.  Ramsey  purposed  to  be  most  dis 
creet,  she  grew  more  venturesome.  But  if  their 
meeting  had  been  constrained,  that  of  the  agent 
with  her  parents  was  well-nigh  stiff. 

As  usual,  the  four  were  gathered  in  the  living- 
room,  where  there  was  a  fire,  though  the  open  door 
let  in  a  sweet  south  wind. 

"  Has  anything  of  magnitude  occurred  IB 
Thebes  ?  "  inquired  the  Professor. 

"  Why,  yes,"  replied  the  agent,  toying  with  the 
[263] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
brim  of  his  new  hat.    "  There  was  a  fire  yesterday 
in  Cohen's  place." 

"  Indeed !  "  exclaimed  the  Professor,  with  diffi 
culty  concealing  his  satisfaction  that  the  planets 
should  at  least  have  made  a  beginning.  "  Any 
thing  else?  " 

"  They  did  say  that  the  Shinns  are  going  to 
fail." 

The  Professor  smiled  a  trifle  grimly,  and  smacked 
his  lips. 

"  The  rascals !  "  he  commented. 

"  And  then  there  was  a  tramp  killed  on  the  rail 
way." 

The  Professor  bent  his  head  three  times  in  mute 
approval. 

"  And  the  pig-man  has  been  indicted,"  went  on 
Mr.  Ramsey.  "  I  didn't  have  a  thing  to  do  with  it ; 
it  was  some  packers'  association."  He  made  the 
explanation  hurriedly,  with  a  furtive  glance  toward 
his  lady-love,  who  seemed  about  to  speak,  but 
changed  her  mind.  She  was  not  quite  sure  what 
indicting  might  mean. 

"  News,    indeed ! "    commented    the    Professor. 
"  News,  indeed !  "  and  there  followed  a  silence  which 
[264] 


CHAPTER     FIFTEEN 
lasted  for  many  seconds,  while  Mr.  Ramsey  rolled 
his  hat  into  a  cone. 

"  That's  only  a  little  bit  of  what  I  have  to  tell," 
he  announced,  at  length,  restoring  the  hat  to  its 
normal  shape;  and  immediately  his  listeners  grew 
attentive.  "  Well,"  he  hesitated,  looking  up,  then 
down  into  his  hat.  "  Well,  I  might  as  well  come 
out  with  it.  The  company  has  suspended  work." 

"  The  company  ?  "  repeated  Myra. 

"  The  Pineopolis  Company  ?  "  demanded  the 
Professor,  as  one  who  does  not  trust  his  ears. 

"  The  Pineopolis  Development  and  Colonisation 
Company  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale,  giving  the  climax  its 
true  tonic  value. 

"  That's  what,"  responded  Mr.  Ramsey.  "  It's 
all  Colonel  Blunt's  doing,"  he  continued,  after  a 
pause.  "  He  would  not  come  here  to  see  the  prop 
erty,  and  the  rest  of  them  got  tired  putting  up 
their  money,  I  suppose,  without  knowing  what  was 
going  on." 

"  A  pitiful  scoundrel ! "  proclaimed  the  Pro 
fessor.  "  A  brainless  knave ! — a  double-faced,  idle 
hound!" 

"  A  person  without  a  sense  of  decency !  "  added 
Mrs.  Dale. 

[265] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  An  infamous  nonentity ! "  her  husband  con 
tinued. 

"  Well,  business  is  business,  after  all,"  put  in  the 
agent,  driven  by  superlatives  into  defence  of  his 
late  employer.  "  He  won't  disturb  you  people  be 
fore  spring,  at  any  rate." 

"  Pray  do  not  be  concerned  about  us,"  retorted 
the  Professor,  largely.  "  We  should  in  no  case  have 
remained  much  longer." 

66  Indeed,  we  have  been  thinking  of  a  change," 
remarked  Mrs.  Dale,  with  pride,  forgetting  that 
the  suggestion  came  from  the  planets.  "  I  suppose 
you  have  not  yet  settled  what  you  will  do?  " 

"  I  am  a  little  bit  at  sea,"  Mr.  Ramsey  admitted, 
though  his  face  did  not  betray  that  he  found  the 
experience  disturbing.  "  But  I  was  never  one  to 
lie  down  and  kick.  I'm  not  like  Oliver  Cromwell, 
when  he  said  he  wished  he  had  served  his  God  as  he 
had  served  his  king.  I  did  the  best  I  could  for  the 
company,  and  I'm  ready  to  do  the  same  for  some 
one  else.  I've  had  my  eyes  open,  and  I'm  going 
up  to  New  York  by  the  evening  train  to  see  about 
a  plan  that  may  turn  out  all  right." 

"  I  should  advise  deferring  action  till  after  th« 
[266] 


CHAPTER     FIFTEEN 
conjunction  of  the  Malefics,"  observed  Professor 
Dale. 

"  Hang  the  Malefics ! "  muttered  Mr.  Ramsey. 
"  Excuse  me,  Professor ;  but  if  a  fellow  had  to  put 
off  hustling  till  the  Great  Bear  got  his  nose  into  the 
Dipper,  he'd  come  pretty  near  to  getting  left." 

"  Under  the  circumstances,"  said  the  Professor, 
"  your  point  of  view  is  perhaps  excusable." 

The  visit  ended  shortly  after  this,  for  there  were 
things  to  be  seen  to  at  the  bog — men  to  be  paid 
off,  and  tools  to  be  secured — all  the  dispiriting  pre 
liminary  details  of  winding  up.  Already  the  pines 
seemed  laughing  at  the  company,  with  the  old  con 
tempt  of  long-lived  trees  for  short-lived  men. 
"  You  shall  see  how  long  your  works  shall  last," 
they  sang.  "  We  don't  need  capital  to  help  us 
grow." 

Mr.  Ramsey,  as  he  bade  Myra  good-bye  at  the 
door,  gave  her  hand  a  possessive  squeeze. 

"  Come  out  a  little  way,"  he  whispered,  confi 
dently.  "  I  have  a  lot  to  tell  you." 

"  Had  you  not  better  wait  till  you  come  back 
from   New  York?"   she   asked,   following   to   the 
wood-pile,  where  the  waiting  buggy  stood.    "  There 
will — there  will  be  so  much  more  time  then." 
[2671 


MYRA    OF    THE    PINES 

"  I  thought  you  might  be  interested  to  know 
what  my  plans  are,"  he  responded,  in  evident  dis 
appointment.  "  Besides,  I  cut  it  rather  mild  about 
the  house." 

"  How  do  you  mean  '  cut  it  mild '  ?  "  she  asked. 
They  were  beyond  ear-shot  of  the  others  now. 

"  Oh,  when  I  said  there  was  no  hurry,  you  know. 
The  colonel  really  wants  the  place  shut  up  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  it  shouldn't  be  shut 
up,"  she  answered.  "  We  are  quite  ready  to  go, 
as  my  father  said." 

"  Go  where?  "  inquired  Mr.  Ramsey. 

"  That  we  have  not  decided  yet,"  she  replied, 
coldly,  finding  the  agent's  manner  a  shade  less  def 
erential  than  usual. 

"  Oh,  come,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey,  "  you  ought  not 
to  pretend  like  that  to  me.  I  know  how  you  people 
feel,  being  thrown  out  just  as  winter's  coming  on. 
That's  one  of  the  things  I  want  to  speak  about." 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  think  of  our  necessi 
ties,"  she  said. 

"  Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "  I  should  not  bring 
them  up  unless  I  had  something  to  suggest." 

"  That's  very  kind,"  she  said  again. 
[268] 


CHAPTER     FIFTEEN 

"  Myra,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey,  standing  still, 
"  don't  talk  of  kindness  between  you  and  me.  You 
know  that  all  I've  got  is  yours ;  and  now  I've  some 
thing  to  offer  you  that's  worth  while." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  she  asked,  her  pride  and  courage 
going  from  her.  One  by  one  the  factors  had  been 
eliminated,  and  the  family  problem  seemed  now 
reduced  to  one  small,  miserable  A  plus  X — A  being 
herself,  and  X  what  Mr.  Ramsey  had  to  offer. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  expounded  Mr.  Ramsey,  in 
the  terms  of  X,  "  I  have  got  a  position." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Myra,  weakly. 

"  Do  you  remember  Mr.  Christensen  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  more  weakly  still.  Why  should  it  be 
always  Mr.  Christensen?  Mr.  Ramsey  explained. 

"  You  see  we — he  and  I — took  something  of  a 
shine  to  each  other  that  time  he  was  here.  He's 
much  more  of  a  gentleman  than  you  ever  gave  him 
credit  for  being.  So  when  I  heard  the  company 
was  likely  to  go  under,  I  wrote  at  once  to  ask  if  he 
did  not  want  a  man  in  his  colony  in  Tennessee; 
and  back  he  writes  next  mail,  offering  me  the  posi 
tion  of  superintendent  at  three  thousand  and  a 
house,  provided  I  could  start  at  once.  How  is 
that?  " 

[269] 


MYRA     OF    THE     PINES 

If  Myra  could  have  formed  an  opinion  in  the 
time  allowed,  Mr.  Ramsey  gave  her  no  chance  to 
express  it. 

"  It's  simply  grand !  "  he  went  on,  answering 
himself,  and  taking  her  satisfaction  for  granted. 
"  It's  out  of  sight !  I  am  going  to  New  York  to 
close  the  deal ;  then  I'll  come  back  here — unless  they 
want  me  to  go  right  out  and  get  things  started." 

"  Oh,  yes ;  it  would  be  much  better  to  do  that," 
she  found  strength  to  say. 

"  Maybe  you're  right,"  he  admitted.  "  Maybe 
it  would  be  best  for  me  to  get  an  idea  of  the  ground. 
And  " — Mr.  Ramsey  hesitated  and  turned  red — 
"  there's  one  thing  more :  I  hope  you'll  take  it  as 
it's  meant." 

"What  is  it?"  Myra  asked.  There  could  not 
be  much  more  that  signified. 

"  It's  this,"  said  Mr.  Ramsey,  lowering  his  voice 
with  most  unneeded  caution :  "  You  and  I  are 
going  to  take  a  step  up  in  the  world.  It  will  be 
easy  for  us,  because  we  are  young;  but  old  people 
are  sometimes  slow  about  catching  new  ideas." 

"  Do  you  mean  my  father  and  mother,"  she  in 
quired. 

[270] 


CHAPTER     FIFTEEN 

"  Yes.  There  is  no  one  I  think  more  of  than 
both  of  them ;  but  other  folks — like  Mr.  Christen- 
sen  and  his  friends,  when  they  come  out  to  see  the 
colony — might  think  them  just  a  little — well,  un 
usual." 

"  You  mean  that  you  would  be  ashamed  of 
them,"  suggested  Myra. 

"Ashamed?  Not  I!"  protested  Mr.  Ramsey. 
"  But  don't  you  think  that  just  at  first—"  Here 
he  broke  off  suddenly,  to  add,  "  Of  course,  we  would 
see  they  had  everything  they  could  want,  wherever 
they  were,  and — "  but  Mr.  Ramsey's  promises  re 
mained  unfinished,  for  Myra  had  turned  away,  and 
was  walking  slowly  toward  the  cross-roads  house. 

"  I  hope  I  haven't  said  anything  to  hurt  your 
feelings?  "  he  cried,  hurrying  to  overtake  her. 

"  That  would  be  quite  impossible,"  she  answered, 
without  looking  at  him. 

"Well,  all  right!"  he  said,  relieved.  "Think 
over  what  I've  said." 

It  was  the  last  time  that  Mr.  Ramsey's  buggy- 
wheel  should  graze  the  sun-dial  stump,  and  it  was 
the  first  time  he  had  ever  driven  away  from  Pine- 
opolis  unwatched. 

[271] 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IT  was  Christmas  by  the  calendar,  though 
Easter  by  the  mild  south  wind.  The  world  be 
yond  the  pineland  was  merry  with  a  song,  and 
fragrant  with  the  smell  of  hay — the  song  of  three 
poor  men  in  a  field,  and  the  hay  of  a  manger. 
In  the  world  was  laughter,  good  deeds,  and  good 
desires — holly  on  the  locomotive  head-light,  and 
mistletoe  in  the  bridle  of  the  baker's  horse.  But 
at  Pineopolis  the  day  would  have  passed  unmarked 
in  any  case,  for  Mrs.  Dale  invoked  the  spirit  of 
Christmas  in  August,  when  she  wrote  her  Yuletide 
tale  for  the  Inglenook,  and  the  Professor  had  long 
suspected  error  in  the  Gregorian  epact. 

Mr.  Ramsey  had  not  returned,  and  the  time  of 
uncertainty  seemed  much  longer  than  a  week.  To 
Myra  the  forest  was  no  longer  a  sustaining  and 
sympathetic  presence,  but  a  dumb  entity,  hopeless 
with  eternal  patience,  stupid  with  perpetual  acqui- 
[275] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
escence.  She  could  have  wished  that  a  wind  would 
rise  and  tear  it  from  its  roots,  that  fire  would  burn 
it,  that  anything  would  happen  to  disturb  its  over 
powering  calm.  On  the  contrary,  her  mother  had 
never  seemed  more  fully  occupied  or  better  pleased. 
She  sorted  over  drawers,  and  did  things  up  in  little 
packages ;  she  destroyed  old  manuscripts,  and  put 
the  newer  ones  in  order.  With  no  idea  of  when  or 
how  the  change  was  to  come,  she  restlessly  made 
ready  for  it,  and  all  the  while  her  black  eyes 
snapped  with  a  gipsy's  welcome  for  the  untried. 

"  Why  don't  you  wear  your  other  shoes?  "  she 
said  to  Myra,  "  and  keep  the  best  to  travel  in?  " 

"  Travel?  "  repeated  Myra.  "  Where  are  we 
going  to  travel  to  ?  " 

"  I  know  no  more  than  you  do,"  her  mother  re 
plied,  as  she  stowed  the  superfluous  teaspoons  in  a 
sponge-bag.  "  Your  father  tells  me  nothing." 

"  I  don't  believe  that  father  has  anything  to 
tell,"  said  Myra. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  has,"  her  mother  contradicted. 
"  He  has  something  on  his  mind,  and,  unless  I'm 
very  much  mistaken,  it's  the  bottle-stopper.  Dear 
me !  I  wish  the  malefics  had  chosen  some  other  time 
for  their  conjunction." 

[276] 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

"  Then  let  us  get  him  to  take  a  walk.  You  know 
he  often  forgets  the  planets  when  there  is  really 
anything  else  to  talk  about,"  Myra  reminded  her; 
and  a  little  later  the  plan  was  carried  out. 

The  three  sauntered  aimlessly,  for  all  ways  were 
one  now.  Soon  the  mineral  spring  and  the  pre 
historic  animal  and  the  charcoal-pit  would  be  vague 
as  the  Astoria  coal-yard  in  the  family's  carbonifer 
ous  period.  The  Professor,  as  he  walked  between 
his  wife  and  daughter,  pronounced  a  valedictory 
on  the  pines.  When  he  waxed  eloquent  and  im 
pressive,  Myra  dropped  back  a  pace  to  wipe  her 
eyes;  but  Mrs.  Dale,  who  hated  retrospect,  sug 
gested  Colonel  Blunt  as  a  living  issue. 

"  That  narrow-minded  numskull,"  observed  the 
Professor,  "  might  have  caused  great  inconvenience 
to  people  who  had  not  our  resources.  Fortunately, 
however,  the  world  is  not  yet  bereft  of  men  of  en 
terprise." 

"  Indeed,  I  have  thought  that  often,"  ventured 
Mrs.  Dale,  with  delicacy,  for  her  line  was  slender, 
and  at  any  moment  the  Professor's  thoughts  might 
take  a  plunge. 

"  Strenuous  men,"  continued  the  Professor — 
"  men  of  action." 

[277] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  People  who  can  appreciate  things,"  supple 
mented  Myra,  boldly. 

"  Precisely,"  said  her  father.  "  The  Interna 
tional  Promotion  and  Exploitation  Concern,  for 
example." 

"  Of  course,"  breathed  Mrs.  Dale,  in  spite  of 
Myra's  cautioning  glance. 

"  Their  honesty,"  continued  the  Professor,  "  is  a 
novelty  that  should  be  patentable,  for  without  their 
agency  this  Western  brewery  might  never  have 
heard  of  my  device  for  stopping  beer-bottles." 

"Brewery?"  gasped  Mrs.  Dale.  "Beer- 
bottles?" 

"  Of  course,"  Myra  assented,  hurriedly,  while 
her  mother  felt  a  warning  pine-cone  strike  her 
shoulder  from  behind.  But  the  Professor  had  for 
gotten  the  malefics. 

"  The  terms  are  very  satisfactory,"  he  declared. 

"  I  always  thought  the  '  Myra '  stopper  a  won 
derful  invention,"  ventured  his  daughter ;  "  and, 
besides,  it  can  be  used  just  as  well  for  sarsaparilla 
bottles." 

"  Quite  so,"  replied  her  father,  looking  down 
upon  her  with  approval.  "  It  is  one  of  the  small 
[278] 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 
devices  which  often  lead  to  great  fortunes,  as  that 
wily  Swede  was  very  quick  to  perceive." 

"  What  wily  Swede?  "  demanded  Mrs.  Da?e. 

"  That  Christensen,"  replied  her  husband.  "  A 
knave — a  plotting  knave!  I  saw  through  his  in 
terest  in  the  model  at  a  glance,  though  he  declared 
it  the  best  of  my  inventions.  I  knew  far  better  than 
to  trust  him  with  it." 

"  Mr.  Christensen !  "  cried  Myra,  in  astonish 
ment.  "  Father,  did  Mr.  Christensen  really  want 
to  buy  the  bottle-stopper?  " 

The  Professor  smiled. 

"  Not  buy"  he  said.  "  Our  gentleman  was  much 
too  wily  for  that.  His  stately  foreign  phrases  con 
tained  no  hint  of  payment.  He  asked  me  to  intrust 
him  with  it,  and  offered  the  most  preposterous 
references — bankers  and  ministers — while  studious 
ly  avoiding  any  mention  of  a  bonus  on  the  option." 

"  The  wretch!  "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Dale. 

"  His  letters  were  most  disingenuous,"  went  on 
her  husband — "  filled  with  ridiculous  protesta 
tions." 

"About  the  bottle-stopper?"  Myra  asked. 

"  About  nothing  else,  my  child.     He  begged  for 
[279] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
an  interview — which  I  shall  not  grant- — that  he 
might  see  it  once  again." 

"The  bottle-stopper,  father?" 

"  Yes,  my  child ;  the  '  Myra.'  Or,  as  he  put  it,  in 
his  crafty,  foreign  way — my  dearest  treasure." 

The  Professor  wore  his  girdled  purple  dressing- 
gown,  and  carried  in  his  hand  a  sort  of  Alpine- 
stock  he  sometimes  used  in  walking.  Upon  his  head 
there  was  a  garden-hat,  obsolete  in  form  and  neuter 
in  gender.  Mrs.  Dale  wore  Myra's  sun-bonnet  and 
a  most  coquettish  apron,  largely  frills,  and  she 
had  looped  her  skirt  as  Amaryllis  might. 

"  Your  dearest  treasure,"  she  repeated.  "  How 
perfectly  absurd." 

Myra  stood  still ;  looked  from  one  parent  to  the 
other,  then  turned  and  fled  straight  into  the  forest. 
On  she  ran  as  swiftly  as  her  feet  could  carry  her, 
not  knowing  whither,  nor  caring — knowing  and 
caring  only  that,  of  all  insanities  she  might  commit, 
this  flight  would  be  the  least  impossible  to  explain. 
When  her  breath  grew  short,  she  went  on  at  a  walk, 
and,  when  she  could  walk  no  farther,  sat  down 
under  a  tree.  The  pines  were  singing  once  again — 
the  forest  was  once  more  alive  with  friendly  ghosts. 

These  would  remember  when  she  was  gone — would 

[  280  ] 


CHAPTER     SIXTEEN 

remember  her  and  laugh  while  weaving  other 
dreams  for  other  happy  people.  The  forest  had 
been  true  to  her  after  all ;  it  had  not  lied.  Myra 
bent  down  and  touched  the  sweet  red  needles  with 
her  lips. 

By-and-by  she  got  up  and  looked  about  her  for 
landmarks.  She  knew  that  the  shadows  lay  from 
the  southward,  and,  by  following  them,  she  must 
cross  some  familiar  trail  before  long.  Presently 
she  did  come  upon  a  trail — the  path  between  the 
pig-man's  shanty  and  the  pit — worn  glossy  by  the 
bare  brown  feet  of  Sis  and  Aleck. 

Of  her  neighbours  she  had  heard  nothing  since 
the  indictment,  and  imagined  that  the  children  had 
been  forbidden  to  come  near  her.  In  truth,  in  the 
anxieties  of  the  time,  she  had  given  them  so  little 
thought  that  the  sight  of  their  old  path  brought 
her  a  touch  of  very  keen  reproach.  Now  it  oc 
curred  to  her  that  they,  at  least,  would  be  glad  to 
know  of  the  company's  failure.  Perhaps  they 
would  be  left  undisturbed  by  reason  of  it.  At  all 
events,  they  should  be  told.  And  Myra,  filled  with 
the  elation  of  a  purpose,  set  out  upon  her  errand. 

But  when  she  stood  before  the  dwelling  of  the 

pig-man   she   felt   its  emptiness   instinctively.     A! 
[281] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
window  rattled  dismally ;  a  door  made  futile  effort 
to  unlatch,  and,  from  the  threshold,  she  was  not 
surprised  to  witness  the  disordered  evidences  of 
flight.  They  were  gone,  leaving  their  only  shelter 
for  the  kinder  forest,  where  they  were  doubtless 
now  in  hiding,  with  their  pigs.  Like  Cain  and  his 
people,  they  had  been  driven  out  into  the  wilder 
ness  ;  and  this  was  Christmas-Day. 

Myra  hurried  from  the  place,  for  it  was  ill- 
odourous  and  foul.  But  the  nearest  way  home  led 
past  the  charcoal-pit,  and  she  chose  another  trail. 
By  pushing  forward  she  would  strike  the  Ocean 
Road,  and  from  that,  a  half-mile  to  the  west,  her 
mother's  favourite  path  led  back  to  Pineopolis. 
Perhaps — for  it  was  Thursday — she  might  meet 
the  fishman,  Mr.  Murray,  and  be  driven  home. 

The  track,  worn  by  the  pig-man's  waggon  going 
in  and  out,  was  unmistakable,  and  in  ten  brisk, 
breathless  minutes  the  white  sand  of  the  Ocean 
Road  shone  through  the  trees  ahead.  At  sight  of 
it  Myra  pressed  on  more  quickly,  and  as  she  did  so 
the  sound  of  singing  came  to  her  ears.  A  tuneless 
song  it  was,  and  wordless,  to  all  intents,  but  one 
that  Murray  always  sang,  unless  he  knew  many 

very  much  the  same. 

[  282] 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"  1*      JT  R.  MURRAY!"  called  Myra,  begin- 

l^y  I    ning   to    run.      "Wait    for    me,    Mr. 
Murray,  please!  " 

"  Gosh !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Murray,  starting  back 
as  Myra  sprang  before  him  from  the  forest. 
"What's  coming  next?" 

"  Nothing  that  I  know  of,"  she  answered,  laugh 
ing.  "  I  hope  I  didn't  frighten  you !  " 

"  Take  a  heap  of  frightening  to  get  me  scared," 
he  assured  her,  grinning,  as  he  wiped  a  hot  fore 
head  with  his  thumb.  "  But  I  did  think  I'd  had 
start  enough  for  one  day.  Wait  till  you  see  what 
I've  got  in  the  waggon." 

Murray,  the  fishman,  was  active  as  well  as  merci 
ful,  and  a  more  rapid  walker  than  his  large  and 
angular  team.  As  he  waited  with  Myra  for  the 
leisurely  coming-up  of  the  white-topped  waggon, 
he  remarked: 

[285] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
66  This  here  beats  anything  I  ever  see," 
"  Where  did  they   catch   it?  "   inquired  Myra, 
vaguely  remembering  a  devil-fish  of  some  weeks 
before. 

"  Nobody  cotched  it,"  he  replied,  mysteriously. 
"  I  found  it  laying  beside  the  road." 
"Then  it  is  not  a  fish?" 
"  No,"  said  Murray,  "it  is  not  a  fish." 
It  was  Sis — or  the  body  of  Sis — that  lay  rolled 
in  a  horse-blanket  on  the  seat  of  Murray's  waggon, 
and  Myra,  when  she  saw  it,  sprang  upon  the  step 
with  a  cry  of  consternation. 

"  Why,  it's  my  little  friend !  "  she  said.     "  Is  she 
unconscious?     Is  she  seriously  hurt?" 

"  She's  unconscious  all  right !  "  the  fishman  an 
swered  ;  adding,  reassuringly,  "  But  it  ain't  a  faint 
that's  liable  to  be  lasting.  Just  smell  her  breath." 
To  Myra's  great  relief,  the  child  was  sound  asleep 
and  breathing  heavily.  Bending  over  her,  she  made 
a  pillow  for  the  little  head,  matted  with  moss  and 
needles,  murmuring,  as  she  arranged  the  blanket, 
the  inconsequently  tender  things  that  women  say  to 
children.  To  her  the  touch  of  the  cold,  dirty  little 
hand  brought  with  it  a  benediction  from  the 
[286] 


CHAPTER     SEVENTEEN 
manger,  a  glimmer  of  the  light  that  shone  on  Mary, 
a  tremor  of  the  joy  that  had  been  Eve's. 

"  We  must  take  her  to  our  house  at  once,"  she 
said  to  Murray.  "  I'm  afraid  she  is  very  ill." 

"  It's  what  I  call  a  pretty  fair  jag,"  the  fishman 
admitted. 

"A  what?"  indignantly. 

"  A  '  load,' "  he  explained.  '•  Somebody  has  been 
filling  the  child  up  with  whiskey,  and  laid  her  along 
side  the  road  on  puppose  to  be  found.  That's  the 
way  I  make  it  out." 

"  Oh,  do  you  think  that  possible?  " 

"  I  guess  folks  wouldn't  kick  so  much  against 
their  luck  if  they  knew  all  that's  going  on  about 
them,"  he  answered,  philosophically. 

As  they  went  on  slowly  along  the  sandy  track 
he  told  her  how  he  had  found  the  child  wrapped  in 
a  tattered  shawl  beside  the  road,  and  they  compared 
experiences  of  the  pine-people. 

"  They're  a  low-down  lot,"  he  concluded,  "  and 
there  ain't  no  trusting  any  of  them." 

Myra  changed  the  subject  by  asking  him  if  he 
knew  what  day  it  was. 

"  I  ain't  likely  to  forget  Thursday,"  he  chuckled. 
[287] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  But  this  is  more  than  Thursday — this  is  Christ 
mas-Day." 

"  Likely  enough,"  Murray  agreed,  amiably. 
"  I  ain't  much  on  religion,  but  I  respect  it  in  others 
— especially  when  they  live  up  to  their  principles." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  enjoy  reading  the 
Bible,"  suggested  Myra — "  so  many  of  the 
Apostles  were  fishermen." 

"  That's  right,"  he  admitted.  "  But  preachers 
are  a  heap  more  stuck  up  now  than  when  Peter 
peddled  fish." 

"  I  know  that  he  caught  them,"  said  Myra,  "  but 
I  never  thought  what  he  did  with  them." 

"Didn't,  hey?  Well,  you  don't  suppose  he 
canned  them  or  sent  them  up  to  Babylon  in  cold- 
storage?  He  hawked  them,  that's  what  he  did, 
.same  as  I  do.  I  worked  that  out  myself."  Mur 
ray,  with  pride  in  his  own  reasoning  and  faith  in 
his  deductions,  added  further  information  not  com 
monly  known. 

"  By-and-by,"  he  said,  "  when  he  got  to  be  Pope, 
he  made  a  law  that  folks  must  eat  fish  once  a  week 
— not  to  help  the  business,  you  understand,  for  he 
was  out  of  it  then,  but  because  he  knew  it  was 

healthy  for  them." 

[  288  ] 


CHAPTER    SEVENTEEN 

"  You  must  have  given  the  matter  a  great  deal 
of  thought,"  Myra  remarked,  with  deference. 

"  That's  right.  A  feller  does  a  lot  of  thinking 
jogging  through  the  pines,  and,  after  a  while,  he's 
liable  to  get  things  pretty  near  straight.  Folks 
all  well,  I  hope?  I  declare,  I  forgot  to  ask." 

"  Yes,  thank  you ;  very  well,  indeed.  See,  there 
is  mother  at  the  door." 

"  Peart  woman  for  her  age,  your  mother,"  ob 
served  Murray,  approvingly ;  but  it  was  a  form  of 
speech  he  used,  and  implied  no  knowledge  of  the 
family  Bible. 

Mrs.  Dale  welcomed  the  advent  of  the  little  pa 
tient  as  a  boon  from  heaven.  But,  at  sight  of  the 
flushed,  small  face,  her  tears  flowed  freely;  and 
when  later  the  child's  eyes  opened  in  the  warm  bed, 
she  said  a  little  prayer  of  thanksgiving. 

Sis  looked  about  her  for  a  moment  in  bewilder 
ment  ;  then,  child-like,  taking  miracles  for  granted, 
she  smiled  and  said,  "  Hello,  Myradale !  Are  you 
here,  too?" 

"Yes,  Sis;  I'm  here." 

"  Say,  did  he  get  away  ?  " 

"Who,  dear?" 

[289] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Why,  Aleck.  Don't  you  know?  Dad  sent  him 
off  to  build  a  fire,  so  that  the  cops  would  think  it 
was  we." 

"  And  what  did  you  do,  Sis?  "  asked  Myra. 

"  I  dunno.     I  guess  I  must  have  died  then." 

"  But,  child,  you  did  not  die." 

"  If  I  didn't,"  demanded  Sis,  "  how  was  it  I  came 
to  fly?" 

Below  stairs  Mr.  Murray,  in  conversation  with 
the  Professor,  had  chanced  to  mention  the  war  im 
pending  between  the  Russians  and  the  Portuguese ; 
also  an  earthquake  which  had  recently  occurred  in 
the  island  of  Ceylon.  He  had  likewise  remarked 
that  the  farms  hereabouts  were  suffering  from 
drouth. 

"  Myra !  "  called  the  Professor  from  the  stair- 
foot,  "  tell  your  mother  I  shall  drive  to  town  with 
Murray." 

"  Indeed  you  must  not !  "  cried  Mrs.  Dale,  de 
scending  hurriedly.  When,  after  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  she  returned,  Myra  was  feeding  Sis  from  a 
spoon,  and  the  child  was  enjoying  the  unusual  ex 
perience  thoroughly,  though  her  appetite  was  not 
robust. 

[290] 


CHAPTER     SEVENTEEN 

"  Dear  me !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Dale,  as,  wiping  her 
eyes,  she  sank  down  upon  the  foot  of  the  bed.  "  I 
wish  there  had  never  been  a  planet  made." 

"  Does  father  really  mean  to  go?  " 

"  Mean  to !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Dale,  in  calm  de 
rision.  "  He  has  gone." 

"  What  reason  did  he  give  ?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me !  "  said  Mrs.  Dale,  still  chafing 
from  the  slight  to  her  advice.  "  All  the  afternoon 
he  has  been  as  restless  as  a  peacock  before  a  shower. 
He  said  there  had  been  an  error  of  two  weeks  in 
his  predictions,  and  that  he  should  have  to  tele 
graph  to  Washington  about  them.  I  suppose,  when 
he  saw  Murray's  waggon,  he  could  not  resist  going 
to  town." 

"  He  can't  come  back  before  to-morrow,"  Myra 
reflected ;  "  but  there  is  really  no  reason  why  we 
should  mind  being  alone." 

"  None  in  the  world,"  her  mother  admitted,  re 
signedly  ;  "  and  it  may  do  him  some  good  to  talk 
to  people.  Murray,  at  least,  is  absolutely  sane." 

Later,  when,  after  profound  sleep,  Sis  sat  an 

unwilling  invalid  in  the  kitchen  rocker,  Mrs.  Dale 

created  a  plum-pudding,  which  gave  much  promise 

of  success,  and  Myra,  with  her  sleeves  rolled  to  the 

[2911 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
elbow,  helped.     The  presence  of  the  child  in  the 
house  gave  to  the  day  a  new  significance. 

"  To-night  we  shall  have  a  lighted  tree,"  said 
Mrs.  Dale,  "  and  Sis  will  think  it  very  pretty." 

"  What's  to  keep  the  darned  thing  from  burning 
up  ?  "  inquired  Sis. 

"  You  must  not  use  such  words ;  they  are  not 
lady-like,"  admonished  Mrs.  Dale.  Presently, 
pausing  in  her  work,  she  said : 

"  Dear  me !  how  dark  it  has  grown,  Myra.  Can 
it  be  getting  late  ?  " 

"  Why  no ;  it  must  be  scarcely  three  o'clock," 
replied  her  daughter ;  "  but  perhaps  it  is  going  to 
rain." 

"  It  seems  to  me  more  like  an  eclipse." 

Mrs.  Dale  spoke  seriously,  and,  laying  down  her 
spoon,  turned  from  the  table.  Myra  laughed. 

"  That  is  impossible,"  she  said ;  "  but  certainly 
we  shall  have  a  storm.  I  hope  father  has  got  safe 
to  Thebes." 

"  I'm  glad  I  made  him  take  his  comforter ;  it 
may  turn  cold,"  said  Mrs.  Dale,  adding :  "  Listen ! 
I  thought  I  heard  a  step  outside." 

"  Perhaps  father  has  come  back,"  said  Myra, 
[292] 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 
jumping  up,  as  the  sound  of  hurried  steps  upon 
the  chips  grew  unmistakable.  But  before  she  could 
reach  the  door  it  was  thrown  open  so  violently  that 
the  lean-to  trembled.  The  pig-woman  stood  upon 
the  threshold,  grimy  and  dishevelled.  Her  black 
hair,  with  its  streak  of  white,  hung  loose ;  her  skin 
was  red  and  wet  with  perspiration  from  the  fore 
head  to  the  throat  and  breast,  from  which  both 
hands  clutched  back  her  ragged  dress  for  air. 

"  Get  out  of  this !  "  she  gasped,  "for  the  love  of 
God." 

"What's  the  matter?     What  has  happened?" 
"  Don't    stop    to    talk ! "    the    woman    almost 
shrieked.     "  The  pines  are  burning !  " 

"Merciful  heaven!     Where  can  we  go?" 
"  Go   where   you   please !  "   she   cried,   roughly. 
"  Only  don't  stop  to  monkey — and  take  the  kid 
along !    She's  yours.    I  give  her  to  you,  and  maybe 
God  Almighty'll  let  us  down  easy." 

They  stood  together  at  the  cross-roads  now,  all 
four  together — comrades  for  the  moment  of  common 
peril.  The  world  about  them  seemed  seen  through 
a  veil  of  brown  gauze.  Across  the  face  of  the  sun 
strange  shadows  moved,  and  from  the  south  a  cloud 
[293] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
rose  above  the  trees  that  was  the  shape  of  an  arm 
holding  an  uplifted  hammer.  The  air  was  very 
still ;  the  four  long  vistas  of  the  roads  stretched  out 
as  so  many  paths  to  safety,  and  Myra,  as  she  looked 
to  left  and  right,  believed  the  danger  to  have  been 
exaggerated.  Then,  suddenly,  across  the  road  to 
Thebes,  a  great  black  mass  appeared  to  roll  from 
side  to  side,  shutting  out  the  distance,  as  though 
the  way  had  ended  there  in  the  mouth  of  a  tunnel. 
Then,  as  a  cannon  in  the  night,  a  red  streak  flashed 
through  the  blackness,  which  presently  was  turned 
to  crimson,  warming  and  brightening  as  a  coal  be 
fore  the  bellows,  changing  in  an  instant  from  cloud 
to  flame,  fierce  and  terrible  as  a  new  sun  rising  in 
the  west. 

"  This  ain't  no  place  for  me ! "  the  pig-woman 
laughed,  with  a  horrible  travesty  of  mirth.  "  I'm 
off!" 

"  Whatever  comes,  we  must  keep  together !  " 
cried  Myra,  clutching  at  her  arm ;  but  the  woman 
laughed  again. 

"  Not  much,  we  won't !  He'd  kill  me  if  he  knew 
I'd  told.  He  set  the  woods  afire  to  burn  you  out. 
And  I  can  run,  I  can.  You  couldn't  any  of  you 
keep  up  with  me." 

[294] 


CHAPTER     SEVENTEEN 
In  an  instant  she  was  gone,  running  like  a  rabbit 
through  the  trees,  her  torn  skirt  fluttering  behind. 
But  before  the  forest  closed  about  her,  she  turned 
and  called  back,  fiercely: 

"  Don't  stand  there  gaping !     Get  to  the  char 
coal-pit,  you  fools !  " 


[295] 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HE    was   right,"    Myra    cried,   hurriedly. 
Mother,   we  must  make  a  rush  for  the 
pit." 

"  No,  no ! "  protested  Mrs.  Dale,  alert  and  de 
termined,  "  the  sky  in  that  direction  is  darker  than 
in  any  other.  It  would  be  like  that  wicked  woman 
to  mislead  us." 

"  She  came  to  warn  us,"  urged  Myra,  "  and  it 
may  be  our  only  chance.  Sis,  wrap  your  dress 
about  your  head  and  start  at  once.  Don't  look 
back  or  stop  an  instant.  Run  on  through  anything, 
and  remember,  I  tell  you  it  is  safe." 

"  Yes,  Myradale,"  sobbed  Sis,  and  ran. 
Almost  mechanically  Myra  pulled  off  her  apron, 
and  dropped  it  on  the  ground. 

"  The  child  is  going  directly  toward  the  fire ! " 
her  mother  cried ;  and  Myra  answered,  firmly : 
"  So  are  we." 

1  299  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Dear  me !  "  gasped  Mrs.  Dale.  "  I  suppose 
we  shall  have  to  now." 

Then,  swiftly  and  without  a  farewell  glance,  they 
left  the  cross-roads,  following  the  child  into  the 
forest. 

Myra  was  conscious  of  her  own  calmness  as  she 
ran,  and  of  her  mother's  pluck  she  had  never  en 
tertained  a  doubt.  In  truth,  necessity  for  action 
had  come  too  fast  upon  the  heels  of  danger  to 
admit  of  fear,  and  death  is  only  fearful  when  he 
lies  in  wait — else  why  should  so  many  cowards  face 
him  bravely?  Each  knew  that  the  chosen  path  to 
safety  must  lead  across  the  track  of  the  advancing 
flames,  and  that  the  issue  of  their  race  might  hang 
upon  a  rising  wind.  But,  knowing  this,  they 
turned  set  faces  to  the  south,  and  hurried  on. 

Under  the  trees  the  sinister  twilight  that  had 
fallen  deepened,  and  at  times  their  eyes,  made  misty 
by  resinous  fumes,  could  scarcely  see  the  trail.  The 
air  was  moved  by  gentle  currents,  hot  and  cold  by 
turns,  which  swayed  the  branches  noiselessly;  but 
in  the  distance  rose  a  murmur  new  to  the  pines,  and 
terrible.  This  sound  was  like  the  rumble  of  a  train 
a  great  way  off,  but  growing  every  moment  nearer, 
300 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 
louder,  more  distinct.  As  yet  they  could  see  noth 
ing  of  the  fire,  and  over-head  dense  foliage  shut  out 
the  sky;  but  shreds  of  vapour,  blue  and  brown, 
wove  webs  across  the  path,  and  soft  white  flakes  fell 
rattling  on  the  needles  like  snow  in  April,  when  the 
air  is  warm.  There  was  a  rustle  along  the  ground 
and  the  patter  of  the  many  little  feet  of  frightened 
creatures — pine-mice  from  the  hollow  trees,  squir 
rels  from  the  acorn  groves,  and  rabbits  from  the 
laurel  covers — moving  northward. 

"  Dear  me !  "  panted  Mrs.  Dale,  "  I  wish  we  had 
thought  of  following  the  animals.  They  always 
know  exactly  what  to  do  by  instinct." 

Myra  grasped  her  mother's  arm,  fearing,  per 
haps,  that  the  temptation  to  put  a  fact  of  natural 
history  to  the  test  would  prove  too  strong. 

"  Come,  dear !  "  she  encouraged  her ;  "  we  have 
not  very  far  to  go — I  see  the  clearing  just  ahead." 

"  Then  why  on  earth  doesn't  that  rabbit  go 
there?"  demanded  Mrs.  Dale,  fanning  herself  in 
effectually  with  her  handkerchief.  To  have  come 
so  far  without  a  mishap  was,  in  itself,  an  argument 
against  having  come  at  all. 

"  We  did  not  even  close  the  door,"  she  went  on, 
f  301  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
prodigal  of  breath.     "  That  woman  was  so  tragic 
with  her  '  Fly  for  your  lives ! '  " 

"  But  it  was  noble  of  her  to  warn  us." 

"  Noble !  "  sniffed  Mrs.  Dale.  "  I  have  no  doubt 
she  is  at  this  moment  rummaging  in  all  our  things ; 
and,  if  we  were  to  go  back " 

"  How  can  you  speak  of  turning  back  ?  "  Myra 
lost  her  patience.  "  Come !  we  must  go  faster." 

"  Of  course,  it  is  always  best  to  be  safe,"  Mrs. 
Dale  assented ;  and  then  she  cried,  in  a  voice  of  real 
alarm : 

"  Dear  me !     Look  at  that !  " 

A  faint  red  glow  shone  between  the  trees,  where 
brighter  flashes  came  and  went,  and  in  a  moment 
all  the  trunks  grew  ruddy  as  those  about  a  hunter's 
camp.  The  air,  sucked  inward  by  the  advancing 
fire,  clamourous  for  oxygen,  swept  sand  and  needles 
in  a  sudden  cloud  of  whirling  dust,  and,  as  it  passed, 
the  pines  sent  up  a  roar  of  defiance.  Then  light 
was  everywhere — a  merry  light  that  danced  and 
leapt  and  brightened  and  grew  till  the  wood  was 
filled  with  capering  shadows  and  every  trunk  be 
came  a  column  of  cornelian  and  every  twig  a  coral 
spray.  The  air  was  thick  with  tinsel  threads,  the 
[  302  ] 


CHAPTER     EIGHTEEN 

ground  ankle-deep  in  sparkling  crystals.  Light, 
light,  more  light — the  light  of  a  million  Christmas 
hearths,  the  light  of  a  burning  world,  the  light  of  a 
sun  gone  mad. 

For  a  moment  the  two  women  stood  transfixed. 
For  a  moment  fear  and  hope  alike  forsook  them, 
and  the  sense  of  life  and  death.  It  was  as  though 
the  judgment-day  had  come — as  though  the  burden 
of  doing  had  been  lifted  from  them.  Insensibly 
they  clung  together  like  children,  hand  in  hand 
before  Omnipotence.  Had  the  end  come  then  they 
would  have  met  it,  hand  in  hand;  but,  in  front,  a 
miracle  had  come  to  pass.  With  the  sound  of 
many  waters,  of  beating  sails  and  timbers  ground 
on  granite  rocks — for  destruction  sings  a  single 
gamut  at  her  work — the  forest  fell  about  them,  the 
flames  swept  round  them,  beside  them,  over  them. 
For  a  moment,  for  the  time  the  lips  might  take  to 
say  "  Our  Father,"  some  strong,  inrushing  draught 
held  back  the  fire,  leaving  a  clear  path  to  where,  not 
twenty  yards  away,  the  pineland  child  stood  waving 
her  thin  arm. 

"  Come  this  way,  Myradale !  Come  quick !  " 
To  the  east  of  the  clearing  the  forest  stood  intact, 
[  303  ] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
and  the  same  accident  of  wind  had  so  far  kept  still 
another  peril  at  bay.  The  black,  impenetrable 
clouds  of  smoke  that  shut  out  everything  a  hundred 
yards  away  toward  Thebes  swept  around  the  char 
coal-pit  instead  of  crossing  it. 

It  was  difficult  to  grasp  the  changes  that  a  breath 
had  brought  about  among  familiar  things.  It 
seemed  that,  from  the  lean-to  where  their  Christmas 
pudding  waited  for  the  oven,  they  had  been  wafted 
without  warning  to  another  planet — perhaps  one 
of  those  of  which  the  Professor  spoke  so  knowingly, 
where  the  atmosphere  is  charged  with  ruddy  va 
pours,  and  the  sunlight  faint.  In  the  odd,  brown 
light  the  hut,  the  remnant  of  the  pines  and  tangled 
laurel-growth  were  like  nothing  they  had  ever 
known.  It  was  as  though  a  spell  had  fallen  on 
them,  which  spell  was  broken  presently  by  Mrs. 
Dale. 

"  Good  gracious,  Myra,"  she  exclaimed,  "  if  that 
child  has  not  brought  the  cat !  " 

"  You  didn't  want  to  leave  him,  did  you, 
ma'am?"  demanded  Sis,  in  wonder,  whereat  the 
others  laughed  hysterically. 

"  Myra,"  said  Mrs.  Dale  a  moment  later,  "  1 
[304] 


CHAPTER     EIGHTEEN 
suppose  we  have  had  what  might  be  called  a  narrow 
escape." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Myra ;  "  the  expression  would 
not  be  a  bit  too  strong." 

"  And  isn't  it  strange,"  reflected  Mrs.  Dale, 
"  how  little  one  really  notices  at  such  times  that 
might  be  useful  afterward  ?  " 

"  Speaking  of  local  colouring,"  Myra  said, 
"  what  should  you  call  mine  at  present?  " 

"Red,"  said  Mrs.  Dale— "  bright  red,  with 
streaks  of  black." 

When  the  reaction  from  the  strong  excitement 
came  they  sat  upon  the  sand,  their  backs  against 
the  log  walls  of  the  hut,  like  people  upon  a  life-raft, 
who,  having  tasted  danger,  are  proof  against  dis 
comfort.  Presently  the  child  fell  sound  asleep,  her 
head  upon  the  lap  of  Mrs.  Dale,  and  the  black  cat 
climbed  to  Myra's  shoulder.  As  she  felt  the 
familiar  prick  of  his  claws  and  the  touch  of  fur 
against  her  ear,  she  whispered,  penitently: 

"  I  don't  deserve  your  esteem,  Uranus ;  I  forgot 
all  about  you." 

"  I  suppose,"  speculated  Mrs.  Dale,  as  her  in 
terest  in  the  situation  grew,  "  that  by  this  time 

everyone  for  miles  around  is  greatly  excited." 
[305] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  I  have  been  thinking  how  very  much  worried 
father  will  be,"  said  Myra. 

"  Indeed  he  will,"  her  mother  agreed ;  "  but  it's 
a  great  deal  better  for  him  to  be  worried  in  the 
Union  House  at  Thebes  than  to  be  sitting  here  on 
the  charcoal  without  a  hat.  Besides,  he's  certain  to 
take  a  hopeful  view.  You  know  he  never  will  admit 
that  either  of  us  is  ever  seriously  ill." 

"  But  we  never  are." 

"  That  is  no  reason  why  he  should  ignore  the 
possibility.  I  hope  this  will  be  a  lesson  to  him  that 
we  are  not  made  of — of " 

"  Asbestos,"  suggested  Myra. 

"  Of  course  there  will  be  relief  parties,"  her 
mother  continued,  giving  rein  to  her  imagination. 
"  All  sorts  of  persons  with  axes  and  things  will 
come  to  save  us,  and,  dear  me!  it  would  be  just 
like  Mr.  Ramsey  to  return  and  be  the  first  to  rescue 
you." 

"  He  could  scarcely  do  less,  in  common  humanity, 
if  he  were  here." 

"  Yes ;  but,  after  all,  it  may  be  someone  else." 

"  Probably  Murray,  the  fishman,"  Myra  sug 
gested,  laughing,  and  her  mother  went  on: 
[306  I 


CHAPTER     EIGHTEEN 

"  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  it  got  in  all  the 
papers — just  a  little  item,  you  know ;  '  Perished  in 
the  Pines,'  or  something  like  that." 

"  Or  «  Sad  Fate  of  a  Talented  Writer  and  her 
Beautiful  Daughter — The  Thriving  Village  of 
Pincopolis  in  Ashes." 

"  Wasn't  it  fortunate  your  father  had  our  things 
insured?  " 

"  You  did  not  think  so  at  the  time,  mother." 

"  I  only  said  it  was  a  foolish  waste  of  money ; 
and  I'm  sure  it  did  seem  so." 

"  Isn't  it  interesting  to  reflect,"  suggested  Myra, 
"  that  we  have  not  a  single  personal  belonging  in 
the  world — not  even  a  shoe-button  to  replace  those 
I  dropped  on  the  way  here." 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Dale  sighed,  with  satisfaction. 
"  For  once  in  our  lives  we  shall  have  everything 
new,  and  some  company,  in  a  fifteen-story  building, 
will  have  to  pay  the  bills." 

"  I  am  afraid  father  will  regret  his  books,"  said 
Myra,  thoughtfully. 

"  That,"  exclaimed  her  mother,  "  is  the  very  best 
thing  that  has   happened.      I  can't  mind   losing 
'  Spirits  in  Prison,'  or  anything  else,  when  I  think 
of  all  those  horoscopes  burning  up." 
[  307  1 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

As  they  talked  the  sun  sank  lower,  and  became 
a  red  spot  in  the  bank  of  smoke ;  and  presently  Sis, 
awakening,  asked  for  water. 

"  Dear  me,"  commented  Sis's  former  pillow,  "  I 
never  knew  a  child  who  did  not  want  a  drink.  Now 
I've  been  thirsty  for  an  hour,  but  I  knew  it  was  no 
use  to  mention  the  fact." 

"  But,  mother,  there  is  plenty  of  water  here," 
cried  Myra,  springing  to  her  feet ;  "  and,  by-the- 
bye,  wouldn't  you  like  a  cracker?  " 

"  A  cracker,  child?      You're  crazy." 

"  Oh,  no,  I'm  not.  We  keep  crackers  in  the  hut, 
and  jam,  don't  we,  Sis?  " 

From  the  cabin  she  brought  out  the  box  of  bis 
cuits  intended  for  the  children's  refreshment,  and 
from  the  spring  fetched  water  in  a  strange  re 
ceptacle. 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  find  that  bottle?  " 
asked  Mrs.  Dale. 

"I  disinterred  it,  mother.  It  is  a  thing  of  great 
historic  interest." 

When  the  stars  came  out  it  grew  so  chilly  that 
Mrs.  Dale,  as  ever  keen  for  new  experiences,  con 
sented  to  retire  to  the  hut,  wherein  Aleck  had  long 
I  308  1 


CHAPTER     EIGHTEEN 

ago  made  the  charcoal  burners'  bunk  comfortable 
with  pine-boughs. 

"  There  is  only  room  for  the  child  and  one  of 
us,"  she  declared,  as  though  the  fact  were  gratify 
ing.  "  You  and  I  will  have  to  divide  the  night  into 
watches." 

"  Very  well,  mother ;  I  will  take  the  first,  and  call 
you  when  your  turn  comes." 

"  That  ought  to  be  at  one  o'clock.  But  you  will 
have  to  count  a  million  to  know  what  time  it  is." 

"  Oh,  no ;  I  shall  take  observations  on  the  con 
stellation  Gemini.  At  midnight  that  should  be 
right  above  our  heads,  with  Virgo  rising." 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  talk  about  such  things," 
protested  Mrs.  Dale ;  "  it  makes  me  nervous." 

As  the  night  fell,  Myra,  alone  upon  the  low  sill 
of  the  burners'  hut,  looked  out  across  the  darkness, 
dotted  as  with  the  bivouac  fires  of  a  sleeping  army. 
To  the  north  the  sky  was  crimson,  as  she  had  seen 
it  at  Astoria  when  the  oil-tanks  burnt  at  Hunter's 
Point,  and  she  knew  that  the  fire  must  have  spread 
as  far  as  Morgantown,  where  the  man  lived  who 
cultivated  colts.  She  wondered  if  it  would  occur 
to  anyone,  seeing  her  now,  to  steal  a  colt  to  visit 
[309] 


MYRA  OF  THE  PINES 
her.  And,  examining  her  scorched  skirt  in  the  fire 
light,  she  speculated  as  to  what  would  happen  if 
anything  were  wrong  with  the  insurance.  There 
generally  was  something  wrong  when  circumstances 
brought  the  Dales  in  conflict  with  the  market-place, 
and,  at  such  times,  the  market-place  invariably 
came  out  ahead.  She  remembered  a  family  in  As 
toria  whose  house  had  burnt,  and  the  neighbours 
had  presented  them  with  a  purse  of  twenty-seven 
dollars,  on  condition  that  they  moved  away.  The 
Professor  had  contributed  an  umbrella,  and  Mrs. 
Dale  a  cake.  Their  name  was  Blodgett,  and  the 
father  stammered.  These  details  were  not  impor 
tant,  but  Myra  could  not  help  recalling  them. 
Gradually  it  seemed  to  her  that  Mr.  Blodgett  had 
a  great  many  pigs  and  Mrs.  Blodgett  a  great  many 
black  cats,  and  that  her  mother  insisted  upon  giv 
ing  a  party,  with  no  other  provision  for  supper 
than  a  tin-box  of  crackers,  which  want  of  fore 
thought  she  found  herself  confiding  to  a  person 
who  said  "  So !  "  most  sympathetically. 

When  Myra  raised  her  head  again  the  constella 
tion  Gemini  had  passed  mid-heaven,  and  a  figure 
stood  before  her,  which,  for  a  moment,  she  believed 
f  310  1 


CHAPTER     EIGHTEEN 
some  phantom  from  her  late  relapse  into  uncon 
sciousness. 

"  Why,  Aleck !  "  she  exclaimed,  below  her  breath, 
not  to  arouse  the  sleepers.  "  Where  did  you  come 
from?" 

"Where's  Sis?"  the  boy  demanded  sharply  in 
return. 

"  Oh,  she's  asleep  inside.     Don't  speak  so  loud." 

"Honest?" 

"  Yes.  I  wouldn't  tell  you  a  story.  Where  is 
mam  ? " 

"  Gone." 

"Gone  where?" 

"  I  dunno.  Dad  hit  her,  and  she  hit  him  back — 
hit  him  good,  and  then  she  run.  He  couldn't  foller, 
because  the  herd  was  gone  clean  mad." 

"Mad?" 

"  Yes ;  they  smelt  the  smoke,  and  went  clean 
mad.  I  tried  to  get  to  where  you  lived,  but  the 
durn  fire  druv  me  off.  I  had  to  dodge  round  hell- 
of-a-ways  to  get  here.  Say,  Myradale,  do  you 
know  anyone  that  wants  to  hire  a  boy  ?  " 

"  Come  away  from  the  door,  and  we  will  talk  the 
matter  over,"  said  Myra,  laughing  as  she  rose.    "  I 
suppose  you  are  the  boy." 
[311] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  Yes ;  it's  me,"  admitted  Aleck.  "  I  ain't  got 
no  place  to  go,  and  I  ain't  got  nobody  to  go  to." 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  went  on  Myra,  untruth 
fully,  as  they  walked  up  and  down  briskly  in  the 
starlight,  "  that  all  we  needed  was  a  boy." 

"Honest?"  demanded  Aleck. 

"  The  difficulty  is  that  we  can't  pay  him  any 
thing.  Our  house  is  burned,  with  everything  we 
had  in  the  world,  and  we  haven't  the  slightest  idea 
where  we  are  to  get  anything  to  eat." 

"  All  right,  I'll  come,  "  said  Aleck,  promptly. 
"  I  won't  never  go  away  as  long  as  I  live.  What'll 
I  do  fust?" 

"  Go  quietly  to  the  corner  of  the  cabin,  and  you 
will  find  a  box  of  crackers." 

"  Yes'm.     What'll  I  do  then?  " 

"  Sit  down  and  eat  them — as  many  as  you  can." 

Standing  by  the  pool,  Myra  gazed  down  for  a 
time  into  the  quiet  water,  where  three  stars  lay  re 
flected.  She  had  often  wondered  how  the  place 
would  look  by  starlight.  Soon  she  should  never  see 
it  again  by  any  light ;  and  yet  it  seemed  as  though 
everything  that  had  ever  happened  to  her  had  come 
to  pass  beside  the  pool.  Here  Aleck  and  Sis  had 
[312] 


CHAPTER     EIGHTEEN 
started  from  the  bushes;  here  the  beautiful  brown 
colt  had  dipped  his  velvet  nose,  and  here,  as  no 
where  else,  the  pines  had  brought  her  messages  and 
fairy-tales  and  a  foolish  song: 

"  To  you  and  me  when  tempests  be, 
To  both  together  in  every  weather." 

Kneeling  among  the  rushes  she  dipped  some 
water  in  her  palm  and  raised  it  to  her  lips,  then 
stirred  the  pool's  smooth  surface  till  the  stars  began 
to  dance.  And  while  she  was  thus  foolishly  em 
ployed  a  voice  spoke  at  her  ear. 


313  ] 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 


CHAPTER  XIX 

«  -m       AT  YRADALE,"  whispered  Aleck,  "  get 

\\/\  back  out  of  this!  They're  coming!" 
"  Who  is  coming?  " 

"  Them— and  dad." 

As  she  stood  up  to  listen  his  grip  upon  her  arm 
'did  not  relax. 

"  Come  out  of  this,"  he  said  again.    "  Don't  you 

hear  them?" 

Whatever  sound  his  keener  ear  had  caught  was 
not  yet  discernible  to  hers ;  but  presently  she  heard 
it  also.  It  was  like  laughter,  shrill  and  guttural ; 
like  inarticulate  blasphemies,  like  the  cry  of  demon 
huntsmen  calling  in  the  night,  like  nothing  she  had 
ever  heard  before  ;  and  it  was  coming  nearer — dad 

and  them. 

Myra  put  a  hand  upon  the  lad's  thin  shoulder. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  she  said,  feeling  ridiculously 
brave,  for  in  some  way  the  knoll  seemed  to  her  en- 
[3171 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
chanted  ground.     "  Nothing  can  hurt  us  here — 
nothing !  " 

And  then,  as  though  in  answer  to  an  invocation, 
the  fire,  which  had  been  creeping  stealthily  across 
the  clearing  through  the  dry  oak-leaves  and  with 
ered  grass,  sprang  up  once  more — sprang  up  and 
shot  into  the  air  till  the  whole  barrier  of  standing 
pines  became  a  fiery  curtain,  transparent  as  red 
glass,  through  which  the  lighted  alleys  beyond  were 
visible.  Myra  never  knew  how  much  of  the  picture 
that  she  saw  was  real  and  how  much  a  phantom  of 
the  brain,  but  it  seemed  that,  as  she  looked,  a  figure 
stood  out  in  the  strong  glare — the  figure  of  the 
pig-man,  black  with  ashes,  glistening  with  sweat, 
tall  among  the  snorting  remnant  of  his  herd.  It 
seemed  as  though,  confronted  by  the  fire,  the  ani 
mals  stood  at  bay;  then,  wheeling  in  their  clumsy 
terror,  ran  into  the  forest,  followed  by  the  man,  who 
leaped  and  swung  his  arms  above  his  head.  So 
quickly  did  the  scene  present  itself,  grow  blurred, 
and  then  dissolve,  that  Myra  would  have  distrusted 
her  own  senses  had  not  Aleck  clung  to  her,  whisper 
ing,  hoarsely : 

"  They  couldn't  touch  you,  could  they,  Myra- 

dale?" 

[3181 


CHAPTER     NINETEEN 

There  was  nothing  of  the  pineland  left  to  burn 
now,  for  what  had  been  the  clearing  lay  an  oasis 
in  the  desolation.  Of  all  the  forest  only  the  grove 
upon  the  knoll  remained,  and  the  birch-trees  by  the 
pool ;  and  these  owed  much  to  Aleck,  who,  with  a 
branch,  had  beaten  out  a  score  of  burning  trails 
that  threatened  them. 

Just  before  dawn  there  was  a  sound  of  hissing 
everywhere  and  the  patter  of  rain  upon  the  laurel 
leaves. 

"  It's  a  good  thing  this  here  rain  held  off  to  let 
the  fire  burn  'em  up,"  commented  Aleck,  and  Myra 
was  much  too  tired  to  remonstrate.  They  had 
crawled  in  close  to  the  cabin's  sheltered  side,  and 
spoke  in  undertones,  not  to  arouse  the  sleepers. 

"Won't  you  tell  me  a  story,  Myradale?  "  he 
begged  her. 

"  And  which  one  shall  it  be  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  That  one  about  the  girl  in  the  tower,  and  the 
two  blokes  what  rode  through  the  fire  to  get  her." 

"  Oh,  that  was  Brunhild.'' 

"  Yes,  that  was  her ;  the  girl  with  auburn  hair, 
who  waved  her  lily-white  hand,  and  yelled  out  that 
she'd  wed  the  guy  who  got  there  first." 
[319] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  I  never  told  you  that  she  yelled,"  corrected 
Myra. 

"  I'll  bet  she  had  to  yell,"  the  boy  protested,  "  if 
her  fire  was  anything  like  ours.  Maybe  she  didn't, 
very  loud,  when  she  thought  it  was  Gunnar;  but 
when  it  turned  out  to  be  the  Sigurd  feller — say, 
wouldn't  you  have  yelled,  Myradale?  " 

By  the  time  a  faint  light  filled  the  sky  and  ob 
jects  twenty  yards  away  had  become  distinguish 
able  through  the  smoke  and  drifting  steam,  Mrs. 
Dale  made  her  appearance,  much  refreshed. 

"  Where  did  you  ever  find  that  boy  ?  "  she  asked, 
with  much  interest. 

"  Oh,  I've  adopted  him,"  said  Myra,  looking  up. 

"Have  you?"  Mrs.  Dale  was  not  at  all  dis 
pleased.  "  Boys  are  often  useful  to  run  errands. 
Dear  me,  did  you  ever  see  anything  so  dismal  ?  " 
And  Mrs.  Dale  looked  eagerly  about  to  note  the 
havoc  of  the  night. 

Where  the  pines  had  been  there  stretched,  as  far 
as  they  could  see,  a  smouldering  plain,  from  which 
rose  strange,  distorted  shapes  of  half-burnt  stumps 
and  blackened  skeletons  of  trees.  For  a  time  the 
watchers  hoped  that  some  chance  had  intervened  to 
[  320  ] 


CHAPTER     NINETEEN 
spare  the  cross-roads  house ;  but  at  last  an  opening 
drift  disclosed  only  the  black  shaft  of  its  chimney, 
marking  the  spot  where  it  had  stood. 

It  was  not  in  the  direction  in  which  they  had 
expected  to  see  it,  and  the  distance  seemed  much 
shorter  than  when  measured  by  their  steps  on  the 
evening  before.  The  roads,  too,  where  their  outline 
could  be  traced,  seemed  nearer. 

"  I  think  we  had  better  put  up  some  sort  of  a 
signal  to  show  we  are  safe,"  said  Myra,  filled  with 
new  energy  at  the  sight  of  far-off  white  farm 
houses  and  stacks  of  hay.  "  Or  perhaps  they  could 
see  us  if  we  all  stood  in  a  row  upon  the  roof  and 
waved." 

"  I  think  we  had  better  keep  out  of  sight  till  we 
have  washed  our  faces,"  said  her  mother. 

But,  not  long  after  this,  Aleck,  from  the  roof, 
called  out  that  there  were  men  moving  in  the  fields. 

"  Give  me  your  hand,"  cried  Myra ;  and,  with 
the  boy's  help,  she,  too,  mounted. 

"  Oh,  mother,"  she  called,  "  they  are  looking  for 
us  already !  I  can  hardly  make  them  out,  but  there 
must  be  twenty  men  down  where  the  marsh  juts  into 
the  pines.  Give  me  something  to  wave.  Quick — 

your  red  shawl !  " 

[321] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

She  caught  the  shawl  and  swung  it  above  her 
head,  pausing  from  time  to  time  to  peer  eagerly 
toward  the  band  of  rescuers. 

"  Ah,  they  cannot  see  it !  "  she  cried,  almost  with 
tears  of  disappointment.  "  If  I  only  had  some 
thing  white.  Mother,  take  off  your  petticoat." 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said 
Mrs.  Dale,  with  dignity. 

"  If  you  don't,  I  will." 

"  Up  there  before  those  men  ?  Myra,  you  are 
crazy!" 

A  moment  later  she  called  through  the  cabin 
door: 

"  Here,  child,  hand  this  to  that  young  lady  on 
the  roof." 

"  They  seen  that ! "  yelled  Aleck,  in  great  ex 
citement.  "  They  seen  that,  sure.  Darn  the  smoke ! 
It's  shut  'em  off  again !  " 

The  boy  leaped  down,  to  climb  a  birch-tree  for 
a  better  view.  Sis,  clambering  to  his  place,  sat 
silently  at  Myra's  feet.  Presently  she  cried: 

"  I  see  somebody.    He's  coming  through  the  fire 
like  Mr.  Knight  in  the  story ;  and  you're  the  lady 
in  the  tower,  ain't  you,  Myradale  ?  " 
r  322  1 


CHAPTER     NINETEEN 

"  Exactly  like  her,"  laughed  Myra,  amused  at 
the  facility  of  the  child's  fancy.  "  But  I  am  sure 
that  nobody  could  be  coming  so  soon.  It  will  be  a 
long  time  before  the  ground  is  cool  enough  to  walk 
on." 

"  But  don't  you  see  him  now  ?  "  protested  the 
child,  pointing  toward  the  cross-roads. 

"  It  must  be  a  burnt  stump ;  that  might  look  like 
a  man." 

"  No,  no !  "  cried  Sis,  growing  more  excited. 
"It's  a  man  in  a  buggy.  Look!  look!"  and,  as 
Myra  followed  the  pointing  finger,  the  smoke  for 
a  moment  lifted,  and  she  saw  beside  the  ruined  house 
a  buggy,  with  a  pale  brown  horse. 

"  I  wisht  it  had  been  the  other  one,"  sighed  the 
child. 

As  Myra  caught  sight  of  Mr.  Ramsey  she  called 
the  news  of  his  presence  to  her  mother. 

"  Come  out,  and  let  him  see  you  are  here,"  she 
said. 

"  Indeed,  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort." 

"  Then  how  will  he  know  you  are  safe  ?  " 

"  He  will  have  to  guess  it  for  the  present.  I 

think  you  might  have  selected  something  else " 

[  323  ] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 

"  You  can  have  it  now,  mother ;  I  shall  not  need 
it  again." 

It  is  ever  easier  to  undo  than  to  restore,  and  for 
a  time  Mrs.  Dale,  as  it  were,  lost  step  with  the 
march  of  events  without.  Meanwhile,  Mr.  Ramsey 
said  many  unintelligible  things  in  pantomime,  using 
his  hat  to  make  his  gestures  plain.  He  pointed  to 
the  simmering  ashes,  and  shook  it  to  and  fro,  as  in 
exultation;  he  waved  it  sadly  toward  Pineopolis, 
and  tossed  it  high  above  his  head  in  exultation ;  he 
appeared  to  eat  from  it,  with  ill-timed  relish,  and 
never  for  a  moment  seemed  to  doubt  that  he  had 
made  his  meaning  clear. 

"  What  is  he  doing  now  ?  "  a  muffled  voice  ques 
tioned  Myra  from  the  interior  of  the  hut. 

"  He  is  pointing  toward  Thebes,  and  jumping 
up  and  down.  I  think  he  means  that  father  is 
safe." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  he  is  doing  in  Thebes, 
then,"  was  the  only  comment  from  Mrs.  Dale. 

The  signalling  was  now  interrupted  by  a  cry 
from  Aleck,  in  the  tree. 

"  Hooray !  "  he  shouted.  "  Hooray !  Hooray ! 
Look  at  him  come !  " 

f  324  1 


CHAPTER     NINETEEN 

"  What  can  he  mean  ?  "  cried  My ra. 

"  Look  there ! "  said  Sis,  and  this  time  she 
pointed  to  the  Ocean  Road. 

It  was  not  strange  to  her  that  a  horseman  should 
come  riding  to  the  tower ;  neither  was  it  strange  to 
Myra,  whose  faith  in  the  impossible  was  strong; 
and  involuntarily  she  glanced  across  her  shoulder 
to  see  if  Mr.  Ramsey,  too,  had  started;  and  this 
was  her  last  thought  of  Mr.  Ramsey  for  many  a 
minute. 

The  rider  followed  the  track,  now  half  obliter 
ated,  and  possessed,  apparently,  some  knowledge  of 
the  land.  When  the  way  was  clear  he  put  spurs 
to  his  horse;  when  the  fallen  logs  impeded  him  he 
cleared  them  like  hurdles,  and,  when  frightened  by 
scattered  sparks  the  animal  threatened  to  bolt,  he 
restored  reason  with  the  curb.  Sometimes  the  smoke 
would  hide  him  altogether.  Once,  when  a  great, 
black,  tottering  pine  fell  close  behind  him,  he  well- 
nigh  lost  control  of  the  plunging  horse.  Once  they 
were  near  falling.  But  on  they  came — swerving, 
dodging,  leaping,  till,  with  a  final  bound,  a  splash 
beside  the  pool,  a  rustle  in  the  laurel  leaves,  the 
horse  cantered,  free  to  plunge  his  blistered  fetlocks 
[325] 


MYRA     OF     THE     PINES 
in  the  cool  water,  while  the  rider,  blackened  and 
breathless,  as  one  who  comes  to  victory  through 
battle,  sprang  from  the  saddle. 

Myra  was  on  the  ground  to  meet  him,  and  Mrs. 
Dale,  now  clothed  and  in  her  right  mind,  beheld  a 
strange  sight.  She  saw  her  daughter's  head  upon 
the  shoulder  of  one  who  might  have  been  a  burner 
of  charcoal,  and  heard  her  say: 

"  I  thought  that  you  might  come." 

"  So?  "  said  the  charcoal-burner,  throwing  away 
his  whip,  that  his  arms  might  be  more  free. 


THE    END 


[  326  ] 


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